Disclaimer: I lay no claim to any of the Charmed characters, quotes, or overt references that may appear in my stories. They are the sole property of Spelling Television. I write for my own satisfaction and for the enjoyment of those who choose to read them.
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A/N: It takes place one year after the untimely death of Phoebe Halliwell. It will be my imaginative interpretation of the events that followed and will hopefully bring closure to the remaining family members as well as the continued reader.
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...But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep. ~ Robert Frost
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Promises To Keep
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The blue of the heavens is larger than the clouds. ~ Unknown
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She had joined the others in releasing the tethered string that forever linked the child to her soul. As the pink balls of air lofted into the faultless blue and the last refrain traveled the distant wind and a tranquil silence settled in; she slowly eased herself from the endless chain of humanity, turned and walked away. A final tear escaped her hidden eyes, as the pang of guilt lunged and slashed at her wounded pride. With one last glance at the results of her irreversible mistake, she quickened her step and headed to the nearest bus stop.
Making her way across the cemetery lawn, the little girl, whose hand was tightly gripped, dared to cast her eye over her distancing shoulder. The rain drench blades brushed against her miniature ankles sending an icy chill up her ram rod spine. With trembling chin and watery eyes she refused to give into the quake that shook her to her very soul; locking her knees, forbidding them to give under the weight of yet another loss. With a resolve that was learned too early, she turned and squared her tiny frame standing even straighter. No comforting arms or gentle words to ease the ache that was so deep. No answers to the questions her young mind begged for... not even the chance to say goodbye.
Alone.
All alone.
~:~:~:~:~:~ ONE YEAR LATER ~:~:~:~:~:~
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Yesterday is but today’s memory, tomorrow is today’s dream. ~ Kahlil Gibran
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She sat in the window seat with her knees pulled as close to herself as was humanly possible. She gazed at the same bright star that she rendezvoused with every night since her sister’s death. The twinkling celestial asterisk, that helped ease the endless contortions and magical thinking of a mind trying to make sense of too much pain.
Prue may have let go, but idle grief refused to let her move on. So she cloistered herself within the peaceful memories of the past. A comfort zone for a wandering soul, whose survival was tested at every dawn. The harsh light of day shown mercilessly that forever is just temporary and that wishes are lies in masquerade. But the night... Ah the night. The gentle darkness that offers solace to the heart laden with denial. The kind shadow that hides the ugliness of reality. The even dusk that screens the callous fact that Yesterday is gone... Today is fading fast... and Tomorrow is never to be.
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She sat on her bed with the toy clutched to her as close as was humanly possible. She gazed at the fuzzy overstuffed bear that she rendezvoused with every night since her sister’s death. The cross eyed buttons staring back in mutual sympathy helped ease the endless loneliness caused by the room’s vacant spirit. The absence of a dimension of immense love, that was replaced with a measure of loss too infinite to reckon.
Piper may have let go, but her stationary sorrow refused to let her move on. So she hibernated in the safety of the familiar. A hiding place for a lost soul whose survival was tested at every sunrise. The austere rays of morning, pierced through the darkness and shamelessly exposed that the pain of death lives on and that dreams are only illusions, false beliefs that are created by the smoke and mirrors of innocence. But the night... Ah the night. The comforting blanket of shade that provides succor to the heart burdened with conflict. The benevolent eclipse from the hideous torch of truth. The constant twilight that shields the heartless verity that Yesterday is spent... Today is quickly disappearing... and Tomorrow is now extinct.
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She sat in her rocker with the quilt pulled as close as was humanly possible. She gazed at the intricate heirloom that she rendezvoused with every night since her granddaughter’s death. The intricate blocks of memories helped ease the anguish of so much loss, caused by the mourning of loved ones taken prematurely. The famine of destiny that claimed two of the most precious things from the treasure chest of her heart, were replaced with infinite trinkets of tears.
Penny may have let go, but the unyielding face of fate had deepened her wisdom and had taught her one must move on. So she released her pain in private. A sanctuary for a soul struggling to face another day. The sober beams of sunrise looked right through her and the pain that she wore inside. Rather the solemn smile of sol rested on the patchwork of a history, painstakingly sewn with care. Each multi-color square a tribute to the family values stitched within its fragments. Yesterday securely sutured by memories... Today firmly anchored in hope... and Tomorrow strongly woven with the eternal threads of love.
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The irregular meter in her stride warned the small child all hell was about to break loose. Time had afforded her the unpleasant opportunity to be the sole source upon which the woman’s wrath was released. But the tiny tot was a quick study and learned the fine art of ducking, diving and dodging. The accelerated course in the necessity of survival was not without its hard and often painful lessons. Bruises, scars and bumps were just the visible wounds the erratic rants produced. Inside were battle scars that would take a lifetime to heal.
Gently she cradled the object of Maggie’s irritation. Softly she crooned in the infant’s ear the only song her sister sang, when she was inconsolable.
Somewhere over the rainbow
Way up high
There's a land that I heard of
Once in a lullaby...
Instantly the babe eased its crying and wrapped its tiny finger around hers and let his damped lashes flutter to sleep. Smiling at the desired result she gently placed a kiss atop the satin brow and went and laid him in the make shift cradle of piled blankets in the corner. Once she returned to the room that held her inebriated benefactor, she was suddenly caught off guard.
The petite mass of flesh and bones was hurled across the living room’s cosmos; as Maggie violently backhanded the innocent child with her left hand, while the other still held the almost empty bottle labeled Samuel Adams.
“Jeezzz Trazy!! Izz about damm timme youz gots that thingg to shutupp.” Maggie slurred just before tipping the remainder of scotch to her lips.
If she hadn’t been so attune to her habitual abuse the human cannon fodder would have been hurt more seriously. But her keen and experienced eye spotted the corner of the glass coffee table just in time to duck her head, divert her dive and dodge the additional pain the inanimate furnishing would have rendered. However the free flying lesson produced an unsuccessful landing and the pilot was no longer communicating with the control tower.
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Ain't no mountain high enough
Ain’t no valley low enough
Ain’t no river wide enough
To keep me from you...
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She stared at the mountain that stood before her and wondered where she would ever find the strength to reach its top. As she gazed at the alternating path of the enormous incline, with its regulated pattern, it appeared to be a task of great ease, but not tonight. The rugged slope with its even steps and restful plateaus seemed too much for the weary woman at its base.
Penny has just finished checking the doors and windows and making her nightly rounds, before heading to her room for a much needed and deserved repose. The months following her daughters death were hard enough, but the added misery of another death so soon and well... it was taking its toll. She found that the slightest of efforts were overwhelming; yet she carried on, letting love and duty be her muscle and loyalty and honor be her stamina. But recently the incessant bickering of her two granddaughters was only making the responsibilities of caregiver that much harder. She knew that Prue was the instigator of the daily squabbles, as she had yet to come to terms with Phoebe’s death. So rather than deal with it, her transferred aggression was taken out and deflected onto her long suffering, now youngest sister. But even Piper had her limits, before she too would strike out at the unfounded tongue lashings of her oldest sister. The arguments would have surely ended in fisticuffs, had Penny not called the fights and sent them to their rooms. One thing she would not abide was pointless and hurtful bouts, it only served to distance their bond, one that she knew their future destinies would rely on for survival.
So there Penny stood at the bottom of the staircase that would lead her to her haven of rest. So in true Halliwell fashion, she squared her shoulders and mounted her climb with a determination and verve, that only endurance builds.
“I’m getting too old for this.” She mumbled as she paused on the second landing to catch her breath.
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I like dreamin’ cause dreamin’ can make you mine.
I like dreamin’ closing my eyes and feeling fine...
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Once she successfully conquered her personal Mt. Everest she proceeded to check on each of her dueling cherubs, as was her nightly custom. Piper was fast asleep, drying tears were the only evident battle scars of her older sisters biting words. Penny leaned on the doorframe and just watched her granddaughter. She was so glad that Piper had inherited her mother’s disposition. Granted Piper had her neuroses, but when it came to the tough issues in life, she found outlets to ease her grief, rather than add to them. She’d read, cook, talk or even cry out her pain. But Piper was a dreamer and it was in those stories of the night that would bring her the most solace. It by no means lessened her sorrow, but it was a great aid in not allowing embellished emotions to fester and grow beyond what she was capable of handling. No her dreams took her where she couldn’t go and brought her to ones she couldn’t see. They helped her escape the now for the then, the is for the was and the present for the past. It was in those imaginary sojourns that healing was found by the heart of the wounded traveler.
Penny slowly made her way to Piper’s bed; painfully passing the one that was now no longer filled. She pulled the coverlet over her granddaughter and bent and placed a gentle kiss on her cheek. “I love you sweetie. Rest well my darling.”
“I love you too Grams.” Piper garbled still in her deep and peaceful sleep.
As she closed the door on the sleeping dreamer, she could hear the restless realist who occupied the room across the hall. As she looked in at the child filled with such suffering she couldn’t help but let a droplet escape the corner of her view. As the worry beads of silent tears encircled the pale cheeks of her oldest grandchild, Penny felt a sense of regret that Prue had the misfortune of inheriting her guarded disposition. She continued to watch as the innocent face would contort and relax and her body would twitch and then ease. She could hear once again the indistinguishable cries she knew were from the battle that was being waged in her sleep, carried over from her emotional daytime scrimmages.
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Run to me whenever you're lonely.
Run to me if you need a shoulder
Now and then, you need someone older,
So darling, you run to me.
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Penny gently untangled the covers from around the anxious visionary and pulled them close to the chin of her miniature carbon copy. As she did she could feel Prue tremble in fear as yet another private demon began inflicting its power on the adolescent’s fragile heart. Tenderly Penny placed a kiss on the creased brow and wiped the dew of pain from her skin.
“Oh my big little girl, you are too hard on yourself. Don’t carry the world on your shoulders, you’ll only fall beneath a load you were never meant to bear. You need to let go. Ask someone older to share the burden with you. I’m here Sunshine, anytime, just run to me.
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No I can’t forget tomorrow
When I think of all my sorrows
When I had you there but then I let you go
And now it’s only fair that I should let you know
What you should know
I cant live
If living is without you
I can’t live I can’t give anymore...
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The softness of the pillow seemed hard against her head. The linen sheets felt like a lead blanket, trapping her in her simulated hell. The weight was too much, the pain was too great and the pressure had reached the danger zone. Then from out of nowhere she heard the familiar voice of a faceless angel. She whispered that all was well.
“Go to her Babygirl, go and release your burden. Go to the One who understands, seek your answers and face your greatest fear. Face the loss of Phoebe. Go to your grandmother Prue, run to her.”
Penny sat in her bed, the dim light of the bedside lamp the only room’s illumination. With book in hand, she had lost track of how many times she had read that same line. Her red rims ached for slumber, but from personal experience Penny knew that the night was not to end just yet. With a knowing smile, filled with both relief and pain she glanced at her open door.
“5... 4... 3... 2... 1...” She counted off in perfect order.
With a blast of swirling air and a blur of muted color, Prue hurled herself into the sweet embrace that awaited her. With an open abandon, that was contrary to her nature, Prue unlocked all the pain, fear, loss and yes guilt. The emotional infection that had been abscessing since Phoebe’s death. In the balm of her Grams’ strong arms, Prue allowed herself to become vulnerable and exposed.
Her confession in staccato was hard to make out as words of regret and culpability were deeply mixed with gasps and wails.
“It... it was all my... my fault... I... I... killed my... my... baby sister... It... it... should have... have been... me!!!! I... I was... the one... who... broke... broke my... my... promise. Oh Grams... I... I... just want to die!!!!!!!”
“Hush my Angel. Grams’ has you now! We’ll get through this together. Shh...” Penny crooned as she cradled her wilting, steel magnolia.
For the next hour Penny let Prue unravel the twisted knots that time and circumstances made of her delicate understanding. The nexus that bound fates cataclysmic events to the belief her selfish act was to blame was so tightly drawn that the lanyard of import was beginning to fray. But in the tether of her Protector’s arms, Prue could feel the cords of love draw her back to safety. She heard the ties of understanding as they laced themselves around each word. And she learned that it was in the letting go that true wisdom and strength was acquired.
With a final sniff and one last blow, Prue looked into the deep blue eyes of her Comforter; as Penny’s own tears were being commanded to stay at bay. The younger Halliwell offered a slight smile of gratitude along with a tissue for the trickle of briny droplets that had refused to obey her orders. Penny shyly blushed as she quickly dabbed at the moisture. Removing any evidence that would prove that under that hard shell lived the soul of an ‘old softie’.
“Grams?’
“Yes Dear?”
“How did you... I mean how...”
“... How did I know so well the pain you were experiencing? How could I quote word for word what was in your anguished thoughts?” Penny answered in query.
“Well, uh... Yeah!” Prue said, amazed again at how completely she was understood.
Grinning from ear to ear Penny answered. “Oh My Dear Sweet Child. You weren’t named Prudence Penelope Halliwell for nothin’”
“You mean I’m just like you?” Prue asked in a tone that implied a sense of pride at the implication.
“Oh no Dear, thank god, but you sure are within spittin’ range.” She replied just before she pulled her young charge into a tight hug and began to tickle her ribs without mercy.
Piper stood just outside the door listening to her wounded sister heal. Once she heard the onslaught of a tickle war, she pulled a sly grin before rushing to her sister’s aid. Jumping on the bed, she headed right towards her grandmother’s vulnerable spot.
“No... NO... not behind my ears!!” She laughed as she released her hold on Prue.
Prue high fived her sister and shouted. “Thanks Pipe.”
“No problem Big Sis!” Piper countered as they both fell into their Grams’ arms.
“No fair!! Two against one.” Penny panted as she drew her family close. The release of tension, gave her an energy and joy she hadn’t felt in a long time.
“You’re right Grams. Us Halliwell’s hafta stick together, no matter what, right?” Prue stated as she cuddled even closer.
“Right.”
“Right. It’s all for one and one for all.” Piper sleepily got out between yawns.
Prue and Penny looked at each other and gave a reflected smirk. In chorus they said. “You’ve been reading The Three Musketeers with your flashlight again haven’t you?”
Piper just smiled as she drifted off to sleep. Penny looked over to find that Prue had done the same. So she followed suit, flanked by the loves of her life.
Just as Penny neared dreamland the harsh ring of the phone startled her awake. Glaring at the clock, the neon hands indicated the time to be 4:00 am. Pulling the pillow over her head she tried to drowned out the grating din. But the insistent caller wasn’t taking the hint. After twenty attempts Penny launched her headrest across the room, her obvious irritation involuntarily engaged her active power.
“Arrrgh!!!!” She grumbled as she reached over a stirring Piper to pickup the receiver and give the voice on the other end a piece of her mind.
“This better be a matter of life or death, otherwise I will...” But Penny stopped in mid rant when she recognized the deep baritone, his words caused her to drop the phone causing it to land with an eerie thud.
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Very superstitious, writings on the wall
Very superstitious, ladders 'bout to fall...
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Seconds, minutes, hours and days; segments and quadrants to constrain or free. Time... Webster defines time as ‘the measured or measurable period during which an action, process, or condition exists or continues.’ But it is the actions, processes and or conditions that causes the definition to become personalized. All its uses become relative when you place them in context. The meanings become numerous and even more diversified. The measurements of life come faster and narrower when crisis and love are the two factors entered into the equation. ~ DreamWeaver
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She lay on the littered ground trying to figure out how she got there. The rough planks hard against her aching skin made her feel nauseous, but that was soon forgotten when she attempted to sit up. The spinning orb attached to her neck felt like a twelve pound bowling ball that had just played a perfect 300 game. Her fallow face grimaced as she attempted to gain an upright position. As she was successful in securing a vertical stance; she let out a sigh mixed of both effort and frustration. It was in that pitiful moan that she knew what brought her to such a disparaging state. The noxious vapors of alcohol from her dry lips were so strong they would have singed the hair off the living room’s bearskin rug, had it not sought a safer refuge, in front of the fireplace.
Grabbing hold of the nearest anchored object she gripped its firmness, as she waited for the crashing wave of excess to ebb into the familiar misery of a well earned hangover. Slowly she let one of her eyelids journey south, to allow her bloodshot hazel see what damage was wrought by her intoxicated rampage. The lid was quickly snapped shut as her vision told that her drunken squall had produced the greatest havoc to date. The room was trashed. The floral pillows that flanked the ends of the sofa were sliced open sending the compacted feathers into a state of flight. Any furniture that once stood perpendicular was now either at an incline or in full repose. The weekend bender had strewn bottles of various liquors haphazardly across the floorboards; the broken glass of some leading to the innocent that had to helplessly withstand the alcoholic storm of a very disturbed young lady.
The harsh ringing of the phone caused Maggie to jump, and thus came full circle the rewards of her overindulgence. She snatched the one and only pillow, not ruined during her two day binge of living la aqua vitae and attempted to take refuge in its buffer, endeavoring to mute the pulsating echo in her eardrums. But the grating reverberation was relentless, as the caller wouldn’t take the hint. After twenty amplified rings, offered by the irritating rotary phone, Maggie threw the tasseled cushion across the room. The transitory outburst only caused her brainpan to beat in double time with her own head’s resident steel drum band. Knowing the only way to make the clattering cease was to answer the call; she cautiously made her way to the wall phone. Pausing long enough to ensure all her vital organs had returned to their proper place; Maggie leaned against the counter for vertical encouragement as she reached for the receiver.
“Hello...”
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From oldest to youngest, four little heads peeked around the angle of the psychedelic papered wall. Seeing their ‘keeper’ was now in an animated conversation the elder, gave the green light as the others proceeded him in their habitual Monday morning routine. The four precious urchins took their assumed positions; and with the stealth achieved from experience and a swiftness reached through practice, they removed the limp and mangled body of their Protector from the lime green shag. The joint efforts of four youngsters, whose combined age equaled all of fifteen, pulled their defender to provisional safety... The tiny room, which held nothing more than worn blankets for beds and each other for hope, a space they treasured as their haven.
“This it the worsest ever.” DJ said as she gently placed the dampened cloth on the girl’s ashen brow.
“I can’t believe she does this every week. NO one’s ever cared for me... for us like she does. I really wish she was my sister.” Dylan stated as he put his small arms around the adorable twins, that were too young to understand, but old enough to feel. “I’m just glad Matthew stopped his crying. He just makes Ms. Maggie madder when he cries.” He continued, still not taking his eyes off the child that was beginning to stir.
At the sound of Dylan’s voice the injured girl, with much effort, fluttered her eyes ajar. “Are you all ok?” Her sweetness and concern passing across the split and swollen lip born of premature courage and an inherited pluck.
DJ flipped the cloth, cooling her heated skin and confided her assurance that they were all ok. Letting her concern be made evident by the tender kiss she placed on her pummeled cheek.
“She didn’t...” She attempted to ask, her panic only allowing her weak words to reach their ears. Each nodded; giving surety that she had once again bought them their safety. With this comforting knowledge she let her head fall back into DJ’s lap and allowed the pain to force blackness into her, temporarily numbing her internal and external wounds.
One of the darling little doppelgangers pulled on Dylan’s faded and torn pant leg. As he looked down into the deep brown eyes, his pooled with pride as Mary handed him her baby blanket, that could never be pried from her chubby fingers.
“Her need, me not now... I let her “BORROW” my bankie, ’kay?” Her angelic voice said, tinged with a tiny hint of attitude to ensure her treasured coverlet was understood to only be on loan.
Dylan picked his baby sister up and kissed her rosy cheek and held her close. “That’s my big girl. I’m very proud of you little sis.” His voice breaking in brotherly pride.
Mary proudly let him place her pink security over the small trembling profile, but she refused to let go of her big brother so easily and that was just fine with him.
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Minutes passed into hours and the only thing that could be heard was the clinking of bottles and expletive groans coming from the other side of the door. They didn’t need to be in the other room to know that “Guests” were coming. That meant that the good clothes and the fake benevolence would come out of the closet and have them parading in front of the next potential patron. Maggie forging a lifestyle of love and compassion, with her as the saintly guardian. Mary gripped her brother’s neck even tighter as the door handle began to slowly turn. The huddled mass wondering if this would be the day they would forever be separated.
With fresh pressed outfits, slicked hair and perfect French braids, the four stood military straight, ready for inspection. But two children were missing, the wounded seraph and the crippled babe; considered to be ‘damaged goods’ to the greedy merchant of virtue. The miniature quartet all closed their eyes as Maggie took the ‘inferiors’ and haplessly tossed them into the tenebrous wardrobe, speaking in a low growl, warning the fighting spirit to keep the bantling’s trap shut. With a haunting laugh, a slam of the door and a look that ordered MARCH, the human merchandise headed once again to the auction block.
The ringing of the doorbell indicated that the market was now open for business. Taking a quick glance at herself in the mirror and pushing back a stray piece of hair, Maggie went to usher in the buyers, in hopes that her inventory would be reduced by at least one. Pulling the door open the money hungry entrepreneur's adrenaline was sent into overdrive as she eyed the man’s designer suit and shiny Rolex watch. The glitter caught on the woman’s five carat diamond, caused her to only see dollar signs.
She was drawn from her fanciful daydream by the vibrato of the tall dark haired man. “Skeeter sent us am I correct in assuming that I have located the correct address?” He said regarding her with sense of superiority and smugness.
Knowing that Skeeter was the code name for legitimate clients, and that her street contact had called her earlier, informing her DP’s, deep pockets, were heading her way, put her somewhat at ease. However she hated the affluent arrogance of the well-heeled and how they treated her as merely the means to an end. But they also paid the most and for that she would put up with their snobbery. Putting on her stage face, she graciously smiled and gave an affirmative nod to his query.
“Please won’t you come in? Make yourselves comfortable.” She gushed as she steered them in direction of the sofa. “I’ll just get us some refreshments and we can discuss your options and price range.” Once her punters were settled, Maggie turned and headed toward the kitchen.
The couple gazed at the humble surroundings and shook their heads in disgusted. As the man panned to his left, she watched as a white plume gracefully landed in his wife’s auburn hair. With a slight grin he plucked it from her perfectly coiffed
tresses.
Maggie soon returned with a silver tray containing three glasses and a pitcher of lemonade; deftly kicking a stray beer bottle under the nearest chair. Once the customary chitchat was awkwardly coming to a close, Maggie shifted herself in the matching faded settee that sat across from the equally faded sofa. Her body language saying let’s get down to business.
As an indication of blue blood propriety, the handsome gentleman, rose and with extended hand, began to introduce himself and his bride.
“We are the....”
“No names! Please!! Mutual security, if you get my drift.” Maggie said, reining in her anxiety, and showing no outward sign of fear.
Rolling his eyes at the woman’s limited lexis, he returned to his seat and got down to the matter at hand. After gender and dynamics were found to be of no issue and the price was just as insignificant, each child was convoyed front and center until the foursome stood in graduating stature, tallest to shortest.
“Four? You only have four from which to choose? I was told you were the best, and FOUR is all you have to present for purchase?” The man boomed in a loathing tone, which indicated his obvious displeasure at the extent of his assortment of options.
Maggie, always the quick thinker, replied. “Business have been very good, and I only present my highest pedigree to those whom I feel are exclusive clients.” She lied, hoping she had indicated they were viewing the finest in her collection.
“Well dear, it is completely up to you. I only wish to make you happy. Do you see anything that catches your fancy?” He asked his wife, gently taking her hand as he questioned her desires.
She carefully looked at each of the precious faces and saw the terror of separation in their eyes. Getting up and heading to the door she offhandedly said, “I want them all.” Before walking out the baby broker’s threshold.
Maggie’s enthusiasm could not be contained as she watched the man pulled out a wad of 100’s three inches thick.
“Now if you’ll be so kind as to give me my bill and my property, I will be on my way.”
Maggie doubled her normal fee of $2,500 and quoted him the price of $20,000.
“$20,000 you say?”
“Yes $20,000 and to be honest I’m cutting you deal on the twins.” Maggie said as her hand trembled at the green currency she now held in her palm.
“Come children; let’s go home.” He smiled as he shepherded his new flock to the exit.
No more words were exchanged as she lifted the crisp emerald bills to her face and took in the smell of success. But her victory was brief as the unexpected shout and the loud crash sent Maggie running for cover.
“POLICE RAID!!”
“OPEN UP!!”
But before it would be humanly possible for anyone to make it to the front door, the battering ram propelled splinters of wood through the air like confetti.
Jack Trudeau was the first threw the door, flashing his badge at the sniveling female hiding under the coffee table.
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He slowly entered the last room, about ready to give an all clear, when he heard a tiny moan coming from the closet. Unsure what may be behind the plywood access, he shifted his suit jacket and placed his hand on the standard issue weapon. Slowly and with skill he pulled back the door. At first all he could see was darkness, but as his eyes adjusted to the interior, he saw the diminutive silhouette holding onto an even smaller outline. Bending down to meet the petrified eyes of the stowaway, his lids blinked and he shook his head in disbelief. It wasn’t until he heard the sweet sound of her voice call out from the shadows.
“Papa Jack? Is that you?”
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Prue thought she had the coolest Grams in all the world as her impassioned grandmother sped the ‘73 sedan down the streets of San Francisco, daring a cop to try and pull her over. Her fury at the late night call caused her to take the turns on two wheels. Prue smiling in delight at their predawn joy ride. A smile that hadn’t graced her lips in nearly a year. But the fun was about to end as Piper lay her green gills on her big sister’s shoulder, indicating Grams’ pot roast was about to reappear. Prue turned her sister’s head just in time to avoid having her Davy Jones nightgown splattered with puke.
“Uh Grams... Ya might wanna quit with the ‘Little Old Lady From Pasadena’ maneuvers, cause Piper nearly ruined my ‘Daydream Believer’ nightie.
“Oh sorry Dear.” As she glanced at the rear view and saw the second wave wash over Piper’s face. Her exasperation momentarily paused as concern took over.
Turning the corner with greater ease she pulled into the driveway leading to the emergency entrance of SFMH. Once she was assured that Piper was ok and once again had her land legs. She threw the car into park and stormed passed the dozing security guard, sending him right off the chair that was leaning against the brick wall.
CRASH went the glass double doors as her fury carried her to the area marked ’Visitor’s Waiting’. The flurry of her gait, helped her two clueless granddaughters keep up with their pissed off Granny. Scanning the vast sea of faces, honing in on the one upon which her wrath was aimed. Once she spotted him in the corner, with his head buried in his hands; She came to an abrupt stop sending Prue and Piper colliding right into her posterior.
“ANDREW! ANDREW JACKSON TRUDEAU!!” Her voice bellowed, causing the whole waiting room to cast their gaze at the oddly dressed woman in the pink fuzzy slippers.
Helen gave him an encouraging smile as they headed toward Penny’s direction. Jack feeling like he was ten again, when he was caught trying to steal a kiss from Patty.
“What the hell is going on Andrew? What is with the cryptic 911 at 4:00 in the morning... Oh my... is Andy ok... Nothing has happened to...”
Prue’s ears perked up as she too became alarmed at why they were in a hospital and Andy’s name was being brought up. No... Not again... was playing over and over in her mind.
“No Andrew is just fine.” Jack assured her, only to have her flame return. After fifteen minutes of a rant he couldn’t cut in on. Helen spoke for the first time.
“AJ why don’t you take the girls and buy them each a soda. It looks like Piper could use something cool to drink. Let Penny and I have a little one on one time, eh?” She finished and started to lead Penny to a room adjacent to the waiting area, Jack shot her a glance of gratitude and an ‘I owe you.’ to which she smiled in return with a look that said, ‘damn straight.’
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Helen bolstered an unsteady Penny as they headed down the hall signed Children’s Intensive Care. Jack caught up after telling the girls to stay at the nurse’s station. But the nurse on duty was too busy chatting with her boyfriend to notice Prue and Piper duck and sneak past the melon colored desk. Prue had overheard something about the Children’s Ward and wanted to see for herself the Andy was not lying in some bed ready to take his last breath. They peered around the corner just in time to see Mr. Trudeau make a sharp right. Seeing the same stenciled words, both sisters stooped passed the gabbing doctor’s, gripping about having to work double shifts. “Man, security is a joke in this place.” Prue muttered under her breath as she paused to listen to the distant voices, wanting to hear if she recognized any of them. She heard Mrs. Trudeau’s calming tones and pulled a still queasy Piper in its direction. Just at the reached the door they could hear the raised voice of their Grams.
“Great merciful heaven...” Was all Penny got out as she lost all ability to stay upright. Just as she was on her way down, Jack slid the visitor’s chair behind her letting it act as a floatation devise.
Prue and Piper scared as to what had caused their grandmother to cry out in such anguish; they hesitantly entered the room. The sight was too much for either of the young girls to take, as they too lost their ability to stand. Helen and Jack each took hold of the closest crumbling body.
A vision of both joy and sorrow. A vista mixed with polar opposites. A view that blended conflicting emotions that are never suppose to share the same space and time; yet here they stood side by side in the prone form that lays in a bed that providence could only have ordained.
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She lay in the noisy silence of an unfamiliar room. The painted picture within her tiny frame was colored in shades of black and blue. Her canvas was decorated with numerous brushstrokes of expressive anger. Her graphic portrait was a universal representation of the augmented fury of an artist starved of all humanity. Yet within the image was a far deeper rendering. An internal pencil sketch of shadow and light, a still life of vibrant courage being captured in the beautiful disaster of Phoebe Halliwell. A portrayal of red bravery hidden under varying colors of pain. The overwhelming and gaudy oils of injustice were mixed with the elegant pastels of valor. That in time would create an exquisite self portrait, a priceless piece of fine art, that would express to all; that life is interpretive and that we have the natural talent to draw our own destinies.
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But I see your true colors
Shining through
I see your true colors
And that’s why I love you
So don't be afraid to let them show
Your true colors
True colors are beautiful,
Like a Rainbow.
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As a tempest rises in your soul, a whirlwind of emotions unraveling time from space. Is your center gone? Take flight on the wings of love and find peace in the eye of the storm.
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A rupture of emotion burst into their lives the morning of their predawn awakening. SHOCK obliterated the painful concept that had taken a year to rationalize. Their soul’s momentary JOY was swiftly corroded by the caustic blast of SORROW, as it showered their hearts with acidic raindrops of anguish. But what became the families undoing was the sight of the little girl LOST, that was FOUND caught in the crossfire of the menacing debris. Emotional flash burn left them temporarily numb, as the multiple intensities proved their power, by short circuiting their rationale.
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Phoebe had refused to speak to anyone other than her Grams, Aunt Helen, or Papa Jack and that was minimal at best. And her sisters were banded from the room, as their presence strangely, only added to the young patient’s distress. Once Phoebe’s external injuries were mended the doctor approached Penny with an alternative therapy.
“Ms. Halliwell, Phoebe has progressed quite well and physically is being given a clean bill of health; but based on my medical examination, her test results and the police reports, I would strongly encourage you to let Phoebe meet with our resident Child Psychologist.” He knew his limits and the child’s remaining wounds no longer fell under his line of expertise. Penny reluctantly agreed.
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If a picture paints a thousand words, then why can’t I paint you...
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The room was set up similar to a daycare center. Bright primary colored furniture coordinated with the bold geometric shapes painted on the otherwise bare walls. The carpet was littered with various outdoor toys and the shelves lining the wall were overflowing with dolls and plushes. A virtual playground for any typical kid. But the toys were not to play with, they were instruments to understand, and the children who came to this room were not typical, they were kids with special needs.
Penny may have agreed to the doctor’s suggestion but it came with the proviso that she stay with her grandchild and that she could stop the sessions at anytime, that she deemed it necessary.
Phoebe sat on her grandmother’s lap and quaked as yet another stranger had entered the room. Penny pulled her closed, wordlessly saying not to be afraid.
Days of therapy turned into weeks and the sessions were arduous and exhausting on both Penny and Phoebe as the frightened child recounted a year of torment and abuse. But the therapist knew something deeper was troubling the youngster more than she was expressing in her play acting.
“Ok Phoebe today we are just going to sit and color. Is that ok with you?” Tammy asked as the brown eyes held the briefest glint of excitement.
Nodding her head yes, as to her approval, she then looked to her grandmother for her ok.
“Go ahead Darling, you love to color... it’s ok.” Penny said with encouragement, and curiosity as to what the doctor had in mind.
“Good!! Let’s get started then. I heard from your sister Prue that you are a pretty good artist, so I was thinking maybe, if you’re up to it, I would tell you something to draw and you could create that scene on paper. Do you think you can do that?” Tammy questioned, hiding a grin as Phoebe rolled her eyes at the task being so easy.
“Ok, first I want you to draw your family.” Tammy said, taking notice of the current hesitation as well as the earlier twitch when she mentioned her sister’s name; but she knew Phoebe loved a challenge and would fight past her apprehension. After a few moments of delay she reached for the box of crayons and began to cartoon a version of her family.
Phoebe had gotten lost in her activity and was unaware of the doctor’s scrutiny. With a furrowed brow and a deep pain in her eyes she sketched her picture. Her tongue pulled up over her upper lip, absorbed in concentration, as she pushed the colored wax over the compressed fiber. Giving it a satisfied once over, she slid the paper over to her new friend.
Tammy stared at the image of just three people, two on the ground, one tall and another short, and yet another with wings flying among the clouds.
“And who are these people?” Tammy asked.
“Me, Gwams, and Mama.” Phoebe softly said, pointing to the location of each one respectively. Sadness tingeing her voice as she finished, lowering her index finger from the air.
“And where are your sisters?” Tammy asked, knowing this was an issue buried far deeper in her sorrow than her physical pain.
Phoebe instantly became agitated and violently shook her head, back and forth, indicating she held no promise of wanting to talking about them.
“How about you draw them for, me? Tell me in your drawing, why they aren’t a part of your family.” The therapist urged, hoping to reach a break through using reverse image psychoanalysis.
At first she resisted, but the skilled counselor encouraged her in such a way that Phoebe made the decision to continue on her own.
Reaching for another color from the yellow and green box, she placed it between her fingers and began to fiercely scribble the ebony gloss over the picture she had just drawn causing the family portrait to fade. As if gone, in another world, she grabbed for another piece of paper and heatedly began to create another setting. Anger still settling in around Phoebe’s small mind, a mind that was darkened with questions and riddles that may never be fully answered.
Tammy looked at the slice of history and proceeded to ask Phoebe what she already knew.
“Is this you and your big sister walking to the park?”
Phoebe kindly nodded yes, but her eyes refused to withhold their anger.
“Were you going to have a sister day, just you and her?”
Once again she politely bobbed her affirmation, but now it was hurt trying to hide behind the wavelets of tears breaking the shore of her cheeks.
“What happened, next.”
Phoebe took the black crayon and drew a big X through the rendering of a promise not kept. She then looked at the doctor and took the coloring tool and dramatically snapped it in half.
With a new understanding Tammy, reached for the little girl’s hand, and spoke in soothing words. “And Prue broke her promise, and that’s why she isn’t a part of your family?”
But to the doctors surprise the tiny head shook NO. Perplexed she decided to go on to Piper.
Phoebe turned the paper over and illustrated a little girl sitting on some steps crying and another child, although older, with her arms around the shoulder of the distraught toddler.
“So when Prue broke her promise Piper came and comforted you?” Tammy asked.
“No.” Was all she said, but behind that one syllable word was a deep ache of a silent promise unfulfilled.
“Does she always come and cheer you up when you are sad about something?”
“Yes.” Phoebe said.
“And Piper didn’t come... She broke her promise to you, and that’s why she isn’t a part of your family.”
“NO!! NO!!” She replied yet again vehemently denying the doctors understanding.
“Phoebe, tell me why they aren’t in your picture then. Why are Prue and Piper not with you in your drawing?”
Slowly her final pictogram revealed the answer as to why she omitted them from her life. An answer none of them expected... but should have.
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“There are things known and things unknown; between them is the Door...” ~ Ishani Banerji
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She stared at the doorway, with its invisible barrier. The threshold that would take her into a world she always never knew. The sun’s rays pulsed against the tinted blocks of ice that framed the place of her birth, yet it somehow delivered little comfort that a newborn should feel in the arms of her motherland. The tender grip of Penny’s hand, urged her past the transparent entrance and into a sphere that would lead to a rebirth for the child that was presumed dead and a new beginning for a soul that was inwardly dying. She returned the grasp with a sweaty one of her own and boldly walked through the Door...
Never letting go of the gentle tendrils of Penny’s long fingers, Phoebe cautiously let her other hand set her tiny suitcase down. From force of habit she scouted the area before advancing any further. Slowly she released her hold and ventured deeper into the Manor’s foyer. She had just made it to the passageway leading into the sitting area when a gust of wind chased after the two running children that rushed the hallway. She left no time for reason; she just answered her fear with motion. Like a startled woodland creature, she scampered up the ample trunk of her grandmother’s leg and into the protective branches of her open arms.
“GIRLS!!!” Penny sternly bellowed, making Prue and Piper come to a screeching halt.
Slowly they turned to face the cerulean eyes that held a mixture of anger and sadness.
“What did we talk about last night?” She questioned as both young girls hung their heads not wanting to see the disappointment they had caused the elder Halliwell.
“Not to make sudden or unexpected moves around Phoebe.” Piper mumbled in a sarcastic sing songie whine; miffed at the numerous rules that must be ‘strictly adhered to’ until Phoebe had fully recovered.
She only disregarded the lack of respect given by her middle grandchild because she soon realized during this time of transition, which battles were worth fighting and at the moment Piper was not her priority.
“Now apologize to your sister, go upstairs, get cleaned up and then run a bath for Phoebe, please. The box of Mr. Bubbles is on the top shelf in the linen closet.” Penny softened as she saw how hard this was going to be for all of them. She had to balance her reactions with each of them carefully if she was to succeed in not failing them.
“Sorry Phoebe.” Piper said in a tone that clearly told she was anything but.
Prue slowly walked over to her little sister and gently placed a kiss on the part of her face that was not buried in her Grams’ shoulder and said. “Sorry Pheebs we didn’t mean to scare you. Forgive us?” Prue paused as the trembling child nodded the head that was still hidden in the custody of her caregiver.
Penny smiled appreciatively at her eldest granddaughter. Her growing wisdom and intuitive protection for both her sisters’ was going to be a big asset in seeing them through. Although Prue sometimes took the long road to get there... she always did.
Prue’s own blue eyes answered back that she would handle Piper. Penny gave her a knowing wink and shooed the two towards the stairs.
Piper took each step with an emphatic stomp. Her feelings of injustice made known by the loud thud her small feet made against the timbers. “What was that, huh... like the gazillionth rule? Man!! I so liked it better when she wasn’t around!!” Piper pouted as she attempted to escape the rapidly approaching hand; but, like always, she was too slow as Prue’s swift, crisp swap made contact with her retreating derriere.
Penny felt the twitching frame that was still traumatized by the impulsive burst of energy. But she knew that the moisture on her neck was caused by the biting words of Phoebe’s middle sister. “Hush now my Little Love, she didn’t really mean it. She’s just scared. She loves you and that will never change, but sometimes fear blinds us to our true feelings.” Kissing the tears from her multicolor cheeks, jaundiced from pain and purpled from another’s unbridled anger. Pulling the child close to her once again, she headed to the plate of chocolate chip cookies that waited on the kitchen table.
Phoebe refused to relinquish herself from her grandmother’s possession. After ten minutes of Penny’s gentle reassurances that she could have a cookie Phoebe tentatively reached for the sweetened circle, and offered the vaguest hint of a smile as the sugared treat met her lips. Penny never stopped stroking her granddaughters tangled hair. Each caress soothing both the old and the young. Phoebe relaxing her guard and Penny recalling the last meeting with the therapist.
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“Ms. Halliwell, your granddaughter is experiencing Selected Retrograde Amnesia, which is being compounded by her posttraumatic headaches. As I’m sure Dr. Sutherland explained, these hemicrania attacks will happen at random, but are generally attributed to stress. It is our belief that the memory loss is only temporary, and will reaffix itself, however it will be at Phoebe’s timetable and one I have no way of predicting. Do you have any further questions?” Tammy asked as she looked at the drawn face of the woman holding a third of her heart, as the child slept, exhausted from the days session.
“Will she always have the headaches, or will they also go away as she recovers?” Penny asked, never once desisting the comforting circles she drew on the back of her restless granddaughter.
“According to the neurology reports, and the head x-rays that were taken, I would have to say no. The scar tissue that manifested itself over the last year is too vast to reverse and thus too risky to remove. But don’t give up hope technology is advancing and she is still young. Just remember to give her two pills at the onset and one every fifteen minutes, for the next hour.”
Penny couldn’t help but look down at the sleeping form and pull her closer, wishing to trade places with the child that always offered her such unconditional love. As she wiped at the dram of saline that filtered down the narrow wrinkle, that extended from her eye; Tammy took her hand and said, Penny, I have never met a child as brave as Phoebe, in my 20 years of practice, trust me when I say that she will use this experience to embrace her true destiny and will help many to do the same. She is special, as are your other two, don’t forget, everything happens for a reason...
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The gingered steps of her oldest were what pulled Penny to the present... that and Phoebe’s further lean, her keen hearing, causing her to stiffen with alertness.
Prue and Piper had barely made it to the kitchen door, when Prue pushed Piper in Phoebe’s direction, nodding that it would be ok.
Slowly she approached her long lost sister and prayed she didn’t screw things up.
“Uh, Pheebs, look I’m so sorry for making you scared and causing you to cry. Sweetie, I messed up, I was scared... that you being here wasn’t real and that you would go away again.” Phoebe made no attempt to respond. “I am not doing a very good job of this am I?” Piper said as she hung her head in defeat. But soon she felt the tiny hand lift her chin and wipe her tear away with her chocolate covered finger.
“Thank you baby, and always know I love you and that I will try never to do anything again to make you think otherwise. ‘Kay?”
All she received was a nod, but it was enough.
“Grams, the bath is ready... The bubbles are just how she likes them.” Prue grinned trying to hide the disappointment that she was excluded in the brief moment of forgiveness. But as she turned to walk back upstairs, she felt a tiny pull on her leg. Looking down she saw the hollow eyes of a child that should be full of life, not one just hanging on. Phoebe then carefully pulled two cookies from behind her back and handed them to her big sister, before running back to the safety of her Grams’ lap.
All she received was two cookies, but it was enough.
“She always did like you better than me.” Piper said as popped the one cookie Phoebe had given her into her mouth.
But Prue knew that Phoebe was just paying her back for the last cookie she stole off of Prue’s plate. A memory, a scrap of time pulled together to create a place to start over again.
“Ok my little cookie monster, how’s about we get you cleaned up and ready for bed, huh?” Grams said lifting her to her hip.
Phoebe just giggled as she grabbed another cookie, before they retreated to the second floor.
But as the drew closer to the bathroom, her heart began to flutter like a captured bird, the waves of memories drenching her in sweat.
Scrambling down from her grandmother’s hold, she started to slowly walk backwards as if the motion of the water was ebbing her back into a state of panic.
“WATER BAD, WATER VEWY, VEWY, BAD!!” In her alarm she turned and blindly ran... anywhere so long as it was away for the tortured memories rising from the deep of her mind.
Her tiny feet swiftly moving her down the hallway, fear rendering her sightless. Her coordination hindered by fright, her equilibrium still affected by her head injuries and her tears blurring her perception, all these factors sent her on a dangerous path towards the spiraled staircase.
But before anyone could form words, Phoebe’s feet tangled in the Oriental rug and hurled her to the elevations edge...
“PHOEBE!!!!!!!!!!”
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“...There falls no shadow where there shines no sun.” ~ Hilaire Belloc
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With little hands flailing, desperate to regain her posture, her attempts to defy gravity were fast failing. Her balance lost, she helplessly let the laws of physics seal her fate. Infinity captured in an instant, forever imprisoned in a flash and eternity encapsulated in the blink of an eye. Letting her lids shadow her sight, she allowed the swirl of air to carry her to her waiting destiny. The arms of her Mommy in view, the arms she longed to feel, an embrace that she knew would make her pain evaporate, filling her aching void with the indescribable love that only a mother can provide her child, the extension of her own soul... flesh of her flesh and bone of her bone.
Phoebe relaxed her overwrought muscles, letting go of the spasms of fear, releasing the contractions of abuse and unleashing the tension of desertion. She smoothed the ragged furrows of her brow, she eased the clenching of her jaw and she allowed the fearful frown to slacken into the simplicity of a peaceful smile. Finally resting in the strong safety encircling her, protective wings both mighty and mild. She leaned in and felt completely secure. She would never again experience pain, she would never again be subjected to the wrath of another and never again would she ever feel unloved. No one would dare try to rend her from the arms of the mother bear, whose claws would ravage any foe challenging such fatalism or tempting to bring any harm to her cub.
“Mama?” Phoebe wept as she buried her face into the neck scented with sandalwood.
“No Baby, its Prue. I’ve got you Squirt, don’t be afraid.” Prue panted out as she had just made it to the verge in time to grab hold of her little sister’s waist, pulling her back to safety. As she and her precious cargo slid down the wall in relief, she could feel Phoebe’s heart flutter, like the rush of a captured bird, the twisted wings pounding against the ribs that once again caged her fear.
It was in that very moment that the Mother/Daughter bond of two sisters was forever fused. The passing of the torch from one generation to the next was claimed, the changing of the guard was preformed in a solidarity of faith, and Prue knew that the great honor bestowed upon her was one she would not defame.
Neither sister had time to relish the sweetened presence of the mother, they lost too soon. The warmth of Patty’s momentary vigil faded as the cries fell from the trembling lips of a child wracked with mounting pain; an affliction which coursed through her cranium like an out of control forest fire. Phoebe’s fingers, still laced with chocolate and crumbs, twisted themselves into her tousled hair and yanked at the silky fringe in an attempt to assuage the excruciating burst.
Penny and Piper finally thawed and melted into the direction of the dissolving frame. Visually impaired by the sudden paroxysm, a pressure crushing her fragile skull, Phoebe blindly crawled to the voice of her grandmother, seeking shelter in her familiar comprise.
“Piper run down stairs and get her medicine out of my purse and bring a glass...” But Penny’s voice waned as she discover her granddaughter was no longer in the hallway.
Piper was already in the foyer making a beeline for the tapestry tote that was haplessly tossed on the overstuffed chair.
Penny cradled the catatonic Heap of Pureness, who was never contaminated with anything but an oversized heart, and a passion that was inherited by all the Halliwell women. She softly crooned words of comfort she hoped were reaching the child she dearly loved. Phoebe said nothing as agony weaved its woeful threads of misery with the piercing needle of a broken promise into the fabric of her shattered dream.
The whole time Phoebe’s russet view locked with the pooling ocean blue of her big sister. Eyes revealing betrayal and anger... love and fear. The ocular dialogue was discontinued when Piper’s return interrupted their wordless conversation.
“Grams I couldn’t find the P-I-L-L-S so I brought a banana, thinking that might help.” Piper said, winking that the medicine was hidden within the tropical fruit.
Penny mouthed a grateful thank you and her eyes conveyed her pride at her granddaughter’s level headedness.
“Hey Babydoll, how about you eat this banana for Grams, it will make you feel better real soon, what do you say Love?” Penny asked as she pretended to peal the yellow produce.
“’Nana?” Phoebe asked as she reached for her favorite fruit.
One hour and four bananas later Phoebe was fast asleep.
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Prue lay in bed allowing guilt to engulf her skewed reasoning. The sound of her whimpering little sister only added penance to her unpardonable sin. Yet amid the self martyrdom, she had to smile. Piper supervised the thunderstorms while she managed the nightmares. Prue would always dramatically fuss about the midnight task, but inwardly she loved the one on one time she spent with her baby sister. She relished the need to be needed and the joy it rendered to know that she could help ease, in another what she could not in herself. But now that joy was a double edged sword. The happiness of having what she didn’t deserve was caused by a selfishness she felt she had earned. But the price of her broken promise was paid in full by one who was innocent on all counts. As the cries grew louder, she knew the footfall was soon to follow. Prue’s desire to come to the aid of her youngest sibling was dashed, as the miniature feet padded past her door and on to the master bedroom. The thorns of a wish not granted could not be contained any longer. The barbs of disappointment ran down the dispirited cheeks of a flower who was past by for another. Prue slowly turned and pulled her crushed form into the fetal position and tried to erase the brown eyes that haunted her.
Her soul was full of inappeasable regrets, and Phoebe’s face made them withdraw to the fore of her aching thoughts. Convictions she had long since buried were violently upturned whenever the sunglow umber of her sister’s eyes invaded her view. So to avoid the scourging of the Little Thornless Rose, she chose the path where flowers never bloom and shadows hide the sun. The place we all, at one time or another, retreat when life is too hard to face. The place were we find no comfort, yet it is in this dangerous haven that safety is always sought. The place we cleave to is not a building made with brick nor stone. It is a place of our own creation, constructed with invalid emotions and erroneous beliefs. The place... This hazardous hideaway is Our Viscera... The hallowed hall within, the atrium that offers no ease or security; yet deceptively provides a simulated sanctuary of precarious welfare. Prue silently screamed in the garden of her discontent.
Little did she know that her sister’s thorns were just as inverted as hers. Phoebe’s pain was not only physical but psychological. The pains of her loss and confusion were just as raw as Prue’s tenderness of guilt and helplessness.
Phoebe lay in the big bed allowing guilt to engulf her skewed reasoning. The sound of her whimpering big sister only added penance to her unpardonable sin. Yet amid the self martyrdom, she had to smile, inwardly she loved the one on one time she spent with her eldest sister. She relished the need to be comforted with the gentle petals of her sister’s affection. The joy it rendered, to have a sister who loved her enough, to provide what should have never been absent in the life of a child... the love of a mother. But now that joy was a double edged sword that kept her from that love. The happiness of having what she didn’t deserve was caused by a selfishness she felt she had earned. But the price of her broken promise was paid in full by one who was innocent on all counts. As the cries grew louder she buried her head into her down feather pillow that was damp with salt to her whispering lips from the stems of her childish tears.
Piper lay in bed her trembling canopy caused by the gust of anguish that swept into the room as her little sister fled to someone else for her console. But when she heard her big sister weeping, she knew all hope was lost. Prue never cried, if the Port in her storm was being overcome by the waters that crashed into their world, then her ship of faith was a sinking vessel. But sadly she knew that the price of her broken promise was being paid in full by those who were innocent on all counts. Grabbing the crossed eyed bear she pulled it to her and let the helm of despair guide her tears into the abyss of its fur.
Penny rose and went to the dresser, pulling the antique brass; she retrieved the parchment from the cedar drawer. Her stilted gait hampered by the decision she was about to make. Pausing at the side of the double bed, she just gazed upon the precious and last Gift her daughter had ever given her. Penny knew that it was within that gift that their Destiny would be fulfilled. As the cries of all three of her most prized possessions filled the chambers of the Manor, she unfolded the paper and began to chant...
Child of Sorrow... Child of Pain
Erase life’s canvas and remove all stain
Unbind the heart to start anew
Bid the anguish its last adieu.
Silence... Peace... Love...
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The sun kissed dawn of a new day, sent rays of warmth upon the tear dried face of Phoebe Halliwell. She let the balm ease her into the morning, snuggling into the cove of her sleeping grandmother. Slowly she lifted her head to Penny’s ear and began to whisper.
“Fanks Gwams. You made me allll better!! I wove you” Phoebe then place a gentle kiss on the face of her Angel of Mercy. “I hafta go now... I hafta have a widdle talk wiff Piper and Pwue. Sweep well Gwams!” She finished with one last glance of her lips to the skin that was now wet with morning dew.
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She could feel the eyes peering over the comforter of her bed. The glare was hard and firm, one not to be ignored. Confusion and curiosity pried her lids from their recline and she found herself staring into the eyes of one pissed off little person.
Piper propped herself up on one elbow, not sure what to be ready for.
“Awe you weawy my middlest sister?” Phoebe scratched out in a hiss.
“You woke me up at...” Piper rubbed the sand out of her eyes as she glanced at the TinkerBell clock on the lamp stand. “...At 5:30 in the morning to...”
“Just answer the qwestion...” Phoebe barked as if practicing for an inquisition placement.
“Yes of course I...” But she never got to finish.
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She could feel the heaviness that straddled her midriff. The weight was familiar as was the glower piercing her to wake. Confusion and curiosity drove her lids to ascend along with one of her eyebrows, she found herself staring into the eyes of one pissed off little person.
Prue propped herself up on one elbow, not sure what to be ready for.
“Awe you weawy my biggest sister?” Phoebe flamed out in a sizzle.
“You woke me up at...” Prue rubbed the sand out of her eyes as she glanced at the big block, glow in the dark numbers on the lamp stand, watching as the 2 and the 9 slowly flip to a 3 and a 0. “...At 5:30 in the morning to...”
“Just answer the qwestion...” Phoebe growled rabid in her quest.
“Yes of course I...” But she never got to finish. Before she knew what was happening a powerful fist flew threw the air with the greatest of ease and neatly clipped the rounded jaw line of her left side.
“What the...” Prue said as she paused to cup her aching chin.
“I see you got the same painful wake up call that I did.” Piper snipped as she entered her sister’s room rubbing her stomach where she was ambushed by the rounded clinch of her roommate.
“PHOEBE YOU KNOW BETTER THAN TO HIT PEOPLE...” Prue sternly voiced, but deeply regretted her words when the fiery blaze roaring in her sisters eyes was extinguished by the flood of tears pouring from her ducts.
“NO I DON’T... I GOT HITTED EVWY DAY AND YOU DIDN’T COMED TO SAVE ME!!!!” She cried pulling her fist together again and attempting to hit the one who didn’t protect her.
Prue grabbed the thrashing balls of anger and pulled Phoebe to herself. Letting her speak her mind, as she knew it would lead to healing, not just for Phoebe but for them all.
Soon the jumbled words began to flow into even sentences, as her voice became just above a whisper.
“I didn’t know what was happening. I was weally scawed Pwue, I wanted my teddy. I wanted you and Piper wiff me, but you didn’t comed and I didn’t know why!!” Phoebe softly wailed yet, basked in the love she could feel radiating from the hug of her surrogate mother.
“Oh sweetie we tried to find you!!! Honest!!!” Piper said through tears, as she drew closer to the bed, holding her sisters.
“But you always camed before!!!! Now I knowed why. I was a bad widdle girl and you don’t wove me no more.” Phoebe said, resigned to the guilt of her generous heart.
“Oh dear God. Phoebe we looked everywhere for you Baby. Piper even got grounded for staying out past curfew.” Prue said twisting her little sister so she was facing her.
“YOU GOT GWOUNDEDED?” Phoebe said ,shock momentarily lapsing the sadness. “FOR ME?”
“Sure did Kiddo and Prue even got a spanking for going to the police station after school to see Papa Jack.” I thought Grams was gonna piss her pants.
Phoebe let out a small giggle as Piper had said a bad word. Prue would have said something about setting an example, had it not brought some much needed relief to the tension in the room.
Prue lifted Phoebe’s little chin so that were eye to eye and asked her why she thought that they wouldn’t love her anymore.
“Cuz I was bad... vewy, vewy bad. I bwoke a pwomise.” She said, dropping her head as the tears resumed.
“What promise was that Pheebs?” Prue asked, beginning to see where this was leading.
“I went wiff a stwanger, Pwue. I went wiff that mean wady to make her widdle girl smile again. I just wanted to make her smile.” Phoebe reached over to Piper’s open arms while not letting go of Prue’s hand.
“But Honey she tricked you, that doesn’t count.” Piper said moving them to the headboard so she could all see each other better.
“Weally?” She asked looking from one sister to the next.
Prue and Piper chorused a resounding “WEALLY!!” To which they all began to laugh.
“So does that mean you wove me again?” Phoebe questioned wanting reassurances.
“We never stopped Squirt, we never stopped.” Prue said pulling them all into a group hug.
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Penny sat in her bed; the dim shafts of the sun the only room’s illumination. With book in hand, she had lost track of how many times she had read that same line. Her red rims ached for slumber, but from personal experience Penny knew that the morning was not to end just yet. With a knowing smile, filled with both relief and joy she glanced at her open door.
“5... 4... 3... 2... 1...” She counted off in perfect order.
With a blast of swirling air and a blur of muted color, her trio hurled themselves into the sweet embrace that awaited them.
After an hour of laughter, tears and more laughter all four leaned into the wrought iron frame of the bed. Phoebe got a mischievous glint in her eye and elbowed Piper in the ribs, who then did the same to Prue. Slowly Phoebe climbed over her sisters in the pretense of a getting a Grandma bear hug, but her plan was foiled when Penny outwitted them all and pulled her young charge into a tight hug and began to tickle her ribs without mercy. The infectious laughter that once again echoed off the Manor’s walls drew Piper and Prue fast to the aid of their thwarted sister, as they both reached for their grandmother’s vulnerable spot... A full fledged tickle war ensued.
“No... NO... not behind my ears!!” She laughed as she released her hold on Phoebe.
Phoebe high fived her sisters and shouted. “Fanks Guys.”
“No problem Lil Sis!” They countered as they all fell into their Grams’ arms.
“No fair!! Three against one.” Penny panted as she drew her family close. The release of tension, gave her an energy and happiness she hadn’t felt in a long time.
“You’re right Grams. Us Halliwell’s hafta stick togever, no matter what, wight?” Phoebe stated as she cuddled even closer.
“Right.” Prue shouted, as her little shadow mimicked her own cheer.
“Right. It’s all for one and one for all.” Piper sleepily got out between yawns.
Phoebe, Prue and Penny looked at each other and gave a reflected smirk. As Phoebe said. “You’ve been weading The Free Musketeers wiff your flashwight again haven’t you?”
Piper just smiled as she drifted off to sleep. Penny looked over to find that Prue and Phoebe had done the same. So she followed suit, flanked by the loves of her life... All of them.
~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~
Piper woke to find the bed empty; hopping off she went in search of her family. She found Prue deeply inspecting something on the kitchen table while Phoebe stood on a chair matching the stance of her big sister.
“Hey... What are you two up to?” Piper asked pulling her frame into a much needed stretch.
“SHH!!! Pwue’s twying to concentwate!” Phoebe admonished as she leaned on Prue’s shoulder in hopes there would still be one left.
Piper made her way to the table and saw the whole bottle of Flintstone’s vitamins strewn across the Formica’s surface.
“Found him!!” Prue said in a tone of triumph.
“Fank you... fank you ... fank you Pwue. You’re the bestest sister in the whole wide world!!’’ She said as she popped the cartoon supplement into her mouth.
“Well I see where I rank.” Piper said in a mock pout.
“No worries Pipe, if it was you that found Bam Bam you would have been the bestest sister in the whole wide world.” Prue said giving her younger sister an eye roll.
“Bam Bam is such a hottie.” Phoebe said only to blush as her sister busted out laughing.
“Where’s Gram’s?” Piper asked as she planted a kiss on her love struck sister.
“In the garden, I think... Come on Monkey lets go find Grams.” Prue said as she lifted a pajama clad Phoebe onto her back, following Piper to the front door.
As they made their way to the side yard they saw Penny sitting on the wicker settee admiring her garland of flowers.
Phoebe jumped off of Prue’s back and sat next to her grandmother.
She mindless ran her fingers through Phoebe’s hair and continued to stare at her bouquet of flora. “Did you know that I planted a flower in that garden after each of you were born?” She said, although not really expecting a response.
“Really?” Piper said, the one of the threesome with the green thumb.
“Sure did.” She stood up and headed to the plotted festoon. Followed by her granddaughters and their interest in which bloom was planted for them.
“The Hawthorne blooming in the corner I arbored the day you graced our family Prue. Hawthorn comes from the Greek word, kratos, meaning strong and powerful. And in England they are cultivated for hedges... haw means hedge. You have grown and will continue to mature into a very powerful and strong wit... um... I mean woman. You will be the matriarch of this family and will hedge your loved ones with a fervent guard.
And... when you’re get a little older I will tell you what the Roman meaning is.” Penny said winking at a now totally embarrassed Prue.
“Now those Blue Violets were planted the following morning after you came home from the hospital, Piper. The significance of the violet is one of a watchful and faithful caretaker. You my dear, are already proactive and attentive to both you sisters and that will serve you well in the days to come. You will be their Zen... The one who will always be there. The faithful center... the heart of the family.” She finished placing her arm around Piper’s waist.
“What ’bout me Gwams... What pwetty did you pwant for me?” Phoebe urged, thinking she might have been left out.
Bending down she pulled her youngest to her and pointed to the star shaped petals that held a crown within its center. “That my Little Love was planted the day you came out kicking...”
“And she still does.” Prue mumbled under her breath. To which Phoebe gave her a stern look that held no provocation.
Phoebe gently touched the soft colorless pedals as her Grams told her its correlation was to the youngest. Edelweiss is called Queen of the Alpine and is protected. It thrives on sunny grass slopes but also grow in the rock fissures up to 2500 meters. Phoebe you are the bravest person I know, and yet the kindest as well. You must always remember your sisters will protect you, but if ever you face a terrible time. I know that you will thrive in both the good and the bad places life takes you.” Penny finished and rose again with the aid of Piper’s arm.
“Grams?”
“Yes, Piper?”
“What is the ugly plant over in the corner?”
“Oh that.” Penny said in a tone of utter disgust. “That’s Mandrake, dear.”
“Does it have a meaning?” Piper could talk cooking or flowers forever.
“It is believed to cause madness in some and its origin breaks down it meaning to be semi human.”
“Wow... Who’d ya plant that for?”
“Your second grandfather my dear, your second grandfather.”
Piper just giggled as she remembered the eccentrics of her grandmother’s second husband.
“Come on Pheebs, let get some breakfast.” Prue called to her dawdling sister.
Phoebe was still enthralled by the tender flower, but at the sound of her name she turned and gave a classic cheeky grin said. “Did ya hear that Sissy’s I’m a Queen.” She then regally waltzed over to Prue and said “Bow to me.”
Rolling her eyes at the swelling head of her six year old sister, she stooped down and said. “Oh you... Hop on Squirt before I dethrone you!!”
As they each filed in the door, with Piper leading the way, Phoebe had Prue pause; she reached for her Grams and whispered something in her ear, before telling Prue to giddy up.
Penny stood just inside the frame of the door. “Welcome Home Baby... Welcome Home.” With a satisfied smile she lifted her hand and pointed to the door, which obediently closed.
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Welcome home, Welcome, come on in and close the door...
You've been gone too long, Welcome, you're home once more!
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The End
Dedication: This final chapter is being especially dedicated to Suzy Q and her Grandmother for letting me use her favorite tune in my fic. ~ “Thanks Grams!”