Disclaimer: I own no one from Charmed…but I do own this story. Thank you Spelling et al.

NOTE: This is the first of two in my PAIGE Series. One day there will be more…maybe.

I had my sunglasses on that morning. The sky was bright, almost annoyingly so. With my glasses on, the sky looked orange and pink. I knew though that it was blue, as blue as those two girls must have felt. I watched from afar. My heart was beating with theirs. Feeling a loss that I wasn’t sure I should feel. A loss I wasn’t sure I wanted to feel.

I wanted to leave. I wasn’t sure that I belonged. Wasn’t sure if the time was right. I had always known that there was a possibility that they shared my blood. The woman at the orphanage had explained to me of my arrival. They had called it magical. I never knew what they meant.

I wanted to leave. But I couldn’t. I felt I needed to stay. I needed to be close to them even though I couldn’t talk to them. I was their youngest sister. I had the proof now. I had the knowledge. I let my hand feel the silver bracelet that was attached to a necklace around my neck. I had received it as a five-year-old on a special day at the orphanage. I had grown out of it by the time I had gotten into high school so I had made it into a necklace.

I knew that Jake was waiting for me in the car. He didn’t understand my need to come to this “stranger’s” funeral. I told him it had to do with the family I never had. He was the only person I had. Even though we had only known each other for two months. He was the first person I had depended on for any kind of comfort. Of course he was the first guy I had dated while sober too.

I watched as they held onto each other. They were beautiful. I looked down at the obituary clipping in my hand. It had blown mysteriously across my path. I had been compelled to pick it up and read it.

“Prue Halliwell,” it said. She was only 30 years old. She was gorgeous. She looked like the two sisters that held each other in front of a cold gray tombstone. They, like me, had long, dark hair. They, like me, had brown eyes, sad and lost. They had no sunglasses, only the tears that seemed to magnify the sadness in their eyes. They had lost their oldest sister. So had I.

They didn’t see me there. They didn’t look away from the casket as it was lowered to the ground. They didn’t let go of each other. Prue must have been their leader, their strength, and their protector. I had never had that but I held no resentment. I was my own leader. I found my own strength. I protected myself.

I watched as they walked away. When I knew that they were gone, only then did I approach her resting place. I kneeled onto the grass beside the freshly dug hole. The men were coming to place the dirt back in the grave. I wasn’t sure why, because I did not know this woman, but a tear slid down my face. I wiped it away as I laid a rose on the tombstone and walked away. Then I was struck with a feeling I hadn’t felt before. It was a feeling of loneliness. For the first time in my life I felt as though there was somewhere I should be. Some people that I belonged with. I turned and I could swear that in front of me there were three women. Three generations of women. They looked at me and they spoke.

I had been sober for a year. I knew I wasn’t having an alcohol-induced hallucination. The one in the middle spoke. It was her. The woman from the clipping I held tightly in my hand. She spoke to me.

“It’s time for you to be at home, Paige. Go to them. Tell them who you know you are. Go home to the manor. It’s your life too.”

I was shaking inside. She knew my name. She knew what I was looking for. And she knew who I was. And with that, with those words, I knew who I was too. And I’m going to share that with you.

I am Paige Halliwell, and this is my story.

Part 1

November 2, 1978

Patty Halliwell gripped Sam’s hand tightly. She screamed loudly as the last push came and went. She waited quietly, out of breath for the word from the doctor. She prayed that it was another girl. She prayed that there would be a fourth Halliwell. She looked to Sam and smiled. He squeezed her hand gently and tears fell when they heard her cry out for the first time. The doctor confirmed that it was a girl. He gently laid the bundle in Patty’s arms and she looked down at her youngest daughter’s face. She fell in love instantly as she had done with her first three daughters.

Dark hair adorned her head. She had soft, smooth alabaster skin. Her eyes were wide and knowing. Patty knew that this Halliwell would one day bring comfort and joy to her sisters. She looked to Sam again who had a worried look on his face. He knew they were getting closer. The Elders had forbidden their love and thus, had forbidden the child. He looked into his daughter’s face as well. He smiled at her beauty. He knew that if she could ever be a part of the trio of Halliwells already thriving in the world she would forever be happy. Prue was 7, Piper was 4, and Phoebe was just about to turn 3.

Patty thought about her daughters, all 4 of them. Each of the first three had such unique personalities. Prue was fearless. Piper was diplomatic. Phoebe was a bundle of fun. Patty wondered how the newest Halliwell would be. What personality would she have? What dreams and what life? Patty knew that she would never see her youngest daughter grow up. She knew that it would be a long time before this youngest daughter would be able to meet her sisters.

Two days passed. Mother and child were well enough to leave the hospital. Sam and Patty spent one incredible afternoon in the cabin on the lake before having to take their child to a place where she wouldn’t be discovered. Patty cried as she and Sam prepared to take their little one to the orphanage. They orbed in and a nun looked up from her work as the daycare keeper. She looked in awe at the couple holding the little girl swathed in a blanket embroidered only with the letter P.

Patty gave instructions to the nun. Sister Agnes listened carefully and promised to watch out for the smallest Halliwell. She had only instructions that her name was to begin with the letter P. An address was given to Sister Agnes and she was told that the address was to be given to the little girl when she came of age.

That said and done Sister Agnes watched as blue lights encircled the couple and they disappeared. She was left holding the small blessing. She looked down into the brown eyes that stared back at her. She knew the child’s life would be filled with trouble. Turmoil would fill her days as she struggled with her identity, with her lack of family. She could tell looking into the eyes of the days-old child that she would search until she found the love she deserved. This child whose name should start with a “P” would find love someday.

She laid the baby in a bassinet. She took note of her small size, took note of the baby’s tight grasp on her finger. It was as if the child knew she was being left again. Sister Agnes reassured the baby that she would be right back and as though she understood, the little girl quieted. Sister Agnes retrieved a bottle from the baby’s bag of things the mother had brought. As she fed the baby, she decided on a name. Sister Agnes named the baby. Paige, Paige Halliwell.

Sister Agnes wrote down everything she knew about the baby and from where the baby came. In a leather bound journal, she wrote down her birthday and her parents’ names. She wrote down her weight and size when she came into the orphanage. And she placed the birth certificate inside the book. She locked it away in the orphanage safe with instructions that Paige should be found and given the journal on her 18th birthday.


December 8, 1983

Paige had gone through her toddler years peacefully with no disruptions. Sister Agnes watched after her as though she were her own child. For, if nothing else, she knew that Paige was one of God’s children. She was a quiet, resourceful little girl. Sister Agnes delighted in her ability to learn quickly. She had been reading since the age of three. However, Sister Agnes also noted a lack of affection from the girl. She knew that little Paige would forever be affected by the abandonment she had faced.

Five year-old Paige watched Sister Agnes with curiosity as she moved about the orphanage cleaning the windows. She laughed as Sister Agnes danced as she hummed to the tune of one gospel song or another. She continued to watch in curiosity as Sister Agnes clutched her hand to her heart and sat on a pew. Little Paige noticed that Sister Agnes’ usually rosy cheeks were as pale as her own skin. She touched Sister Agnes’ hand and then watched in fear as Agnes fell to the floor.

She was crying when they came in and found her sitting with Sister Agnes trying to get her to wake up. She was crying when they carried Sister Agnes away covered with a sheet. She was terrified when Father Howard picked her up and carried her away and locked her in her room. She was only five years old. She had for the second time in her life lost her mother figure. Little Paige Halliwell was for the first time, alone.


February 14, 1984

She hadn’t spoken a word since Sister Agnes had been carried away. The day was Valentine’s Day and Paige was as excited as her little heart could stand it. Every February 14th was the annual Heart of Hearts day at the orphanage. It was the day when potential parents came to play with the children and possibly even pick one to go home with. As young as she was, Paige knew that it was her chance to find a home. She dressed in her only dress, a little white one with lace trim and pink bows on the sleeves. She brushed her own long, dark brown hair.

She sat with the other children outside the orphanage on the playground. They could mingle with the parents in groups. Her group was next. She looked out at the small selection of adults. A face was looking back at hers. It was kind and gentle with a smile that was determined and concerned. Paige smiled at this adult. She wondered why an older woman would be looking for a child. She hoped that at least she wanted a little girl. With the woman was a girl that looked to be a few years older than Paige. A sister? Paige looked to the little girl and noticed how much like herself she looked. They had the same eyes and the same hair. She smiled and waved at the little girl. The little girl smiled and waved back. The adult with the little girl smiled at Paige and Paige blushed and looked down. They approached Paige and Paige could feel her little heart beating in her chest. She wanted so badly to go home with the woman and the little girl. However, before they could reach Paige, Paige heard a voice above her from where she sat.

“Paige. You have been chosen.”

Paige looked up at Father Howard blinking at his tall frame. She looked for the woman and girl but could not find them. She hoped it was them to whom Father Howard was referring. But when she looked to where he was pointing, she saw a nice couple staring back at her. They weren’t as friendly looking as the woman and the little girl, but they were a mom and a dad. They had no little kids with them. They were older looking but not that old. She walked toward them and smiled.

“Paige, this is Mr. and Mrs. Gregory. They will be your new parents. Would you like that?”

Paige looked up to Father Howard and then to the Gregory couple and she nodded without speaking. She listened as Father Howard explained that Paige hadn’t spoken since Sister Agnes’ death. She heard the couple use words such as “dreadful” and “poor thing.”

She was led back to her room to pack for her trip to her new home. She was allowed to take with her anything that she came to the orphanage with. So in her little suitcase that had been brought to her by the Gregory couple she placed her clothes that Sister Agnes had given her and a little blanket engraved with the letter P that had been given to her by her parents. She was getting ready to leave the room when she heard a knock outside the door. She opened the door and was staring up into the face of the little girl from the playground, the little girl that had been with the nice-looking woman. Paige was in awe of their likeness. And even more in awe when the little girl spoke to her.

“Hi, I’m Phoebe. I’m 7. I just wanted to give you this.”

Paige took the present that Phoebe offered her. It was a silver bracelet. She giggled as Phoebe put it on her. And said her first words in months.

“Thank you Phoebe.”

“You’re welcome. I have to go now. My Grams is waiting.”

Paige watched as the little girl ran off and stopped suddenly. She watched as she turned slowly around and ran back to Paige. The little girl threw her arms around Paige and hugged her tightly. Then she disappeared down the hall. Paige struggled with the little suitcase down the stairs and into the embrace of Mr. and Mrs. Gregory. She knew, though, that she would never forget Phoebe, the bracelet, or the hug.


April 19, 1985

Paige Gregory was almost through with her first year of school. Kindergarten had been so far a breeze. Mr. and Mrs. Gregory were decent people. They never hit nor abused Paige in any physical way. However, they weren’t happy and they never did anything with Paige. They simply sent her to school, as though she had become an obligation and they were happy to send her to someone else for the day. Paige didn’t mind because she buried herself in books and in television. She began even at the young age of five to depend on herself for love and for support.

As each day passed she never forgot that hug. The girl’s name was engraved on her bracelet. Phoebe. She wanted to see her friend again. She wanted to find her, to let her know that she wanted to be her sister, and to move in with her and her Grams. She wished they had gotten to her before the Gregory’s.

It was in the spring that Mrs. Gregory began to drink a lot. She had gone to the doctor one day and Paige had watched a she came home, downed a bottle of clear liquid and passed out on the kitchen floor. Paige had only seen one person fall to the floor like that before. And Sister Agnes had never woken up. She called 911 that day. She got in trouble later by Mrs. Gregory. She had told Paige that she shouldn’t have been so stupid as to call 911. She had just taken a nap.

Paige had been sent to bed without her dinner. She could hear them arguing down the hall. Mr. Gregory told Mrs. Gregory that he had found another woman who would be more of a wife than Mrs. Gregory. He told her that it was because of her drinking that she couldn’t carry a baby. Mrs. Gregory told Mr. Gregory that they had Paige. Mr. Gregory told Mrs. Gregory that he never wanted Paige. Paige’s heart broke in two. She shook when she heard the front door slam and could hear Mrs. Gregory shout several profane words.

Paige heard a soft knock on her door. She opened it and stared up at the woman before her. Mrs. Gregory smelled of the clear liquid again. She was smoking a cigarette. Paige had never seen her do that. She watched as Mrs. Gregory sat on her bed and looked at her.

“Paige, honey, come sit next to me.”

Paige did as she was told. She sat next to the woman and flinched at the smell of the cigarettes and alcohol. She wanted to be anywhere but there.

“Paige. You and I we’re friends aren’t we?”

Paige nodded not sure what to say, her little six-year-old hands trembling. “Yes ma’am Mrs. Gregory.”

“Okay, Paige, it’s been over a year. You can call me Vera now.”

Paige felt uncomfortable using that name. So she nodded. She flinched again as Vera Gregory held her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“You and me, kid, that’s all that’s left. You and me.”

Paige nodded again. She was afraid of it just being her and Vera. She was afraid that if Vera passed out again it would be just her. She was afraid that if she as alone then she would never be able to find Phoebe and the older woman again.

November 2, 1988

Her tenth birthday was one Paige had been waiting for. She was hoping Mrs. Gregory would stay sober enough to throw her a birthday party and invite the few friends she had from school. Paige was a quiet girl. She had trouble making friends in school because she always felt different. She had spent five years trying to fit in with her classmates but to no avail. Finally when her 5th year of school started, she decided she would not try so hard and just accept the few friends she had.

When Paige got home from school that day she knew there would be no party. Vodka bottles, Vera Gregory’s drink of choice, were strewn about the living room. They had moved 4 years before into a trailer park. Vera couldn’t hold down a steady job and in order to pay the rent on the trailer lot she kept a steady stream of boyfriends. Paige had managed to avoid any bad experiences with these drunken, slovenly men. She had a friend whose mother would let her stay over when she knew Vera was on a binge.

She called out to Vera and waited for an answer. At first she got none. As she called out again she heard a muffled slur of an answer coming from the one bedroom of the trailer. She made her way through the mess and found Vera lying against the bed, sitting on the floor. She had a half-empty bottle of vodka in her lap. Paige was on the verge of tears but she had stopped crying after the hundredth time Vera Gregory passed out. That had been 2 years ago.

She picked up the bottle and pushed Vera over onto the floor and covered her with the comforter from the bed. She closed the bedroom door and walked, with the bottle, into the living room. Paige moved aside old newspapers and sat down on the couch. She heard bottles clink together as her weight moved the cushions. She looked down where she sat and two more empty bottles were lying there, neck to neck. Paige put the half-full bottle on the coffee table. She stared at it. She wondered about its power. She was curious as to what its enticement was. She wanted to know what Vera felt after a bottle.

She reached her thin, pale hands across the table to the bottle and slipped her fingers around its clear glass neck. She hesitated. Looking at the clear liquid contained within. Poison or power? She wasn’t sure. She pulled the bottle to her nose and took in a deep breath. The smell burnt her nostrils and soothed her throat. She closed her eyes and put the bottle to her quivering lips. She was afraid of what she was about to do. She knew that Vera Gregory was the only mother she would ever have. She wanted to understand her completely. She could taste just a drop of the liquid on her tongue as she pressed it to the opening of the bottle. It burnt her tongue slightly but Paige could taste the sweetness hidden within.

Ten years old. Her birthday spun around her in a mass array of light and the spinning earth. She had finished the bottle an hour earlier. Her eyes were unfocused. Her heart was slow. Her breath was shallow. Paige crawled on the floor to the mirror in the bathroom. It was the full-length kind that bolted onto the bathroom door. She crawled in, the cool tile inviting her to sit a while. She pulled her legs, which had become numb into the bathroom with her. She shut the door and locked it and then sat in front of the mirror. She stared at the face in front of her. Her ten-year-old face looked older than it should. Paige felt older than she should.

Her dark brown hair was short, above the shoulders. Vera had cut it one night in a drunken frenzy. Paige had then had to go to the local Fantastic Sam’s barber and get the $8 child’s haircut. She touched her hair. Her little hands trembled as she remembered that night a month ago. The scissors were cold and sharp against her neck. Paige looked up on the bathroom counter and saw the same scissors sitting there. They made her nervous so she turned away from them and returned to staring at her reflection. Her brown eyes stared back at her. She reached to touch her reflection and stopped when she saw the shine of the silver bracelet. It still fit her tiny wrist but barely. She touched it and the tears fell for the first time in two years. She could still feel the arms of Phoebe. She felt warm and at home there. She remembered the eyes of Phoebe’s Grams. She looked again at her own eyes. They were like Phoebe’s and Gram’s. She wanted so badly for them to be her real family.

That night, that drunken night, Paige Gregory wept for the parents who didn’t want her. For a family she would never know. She cried until she couldn’t cry anymore. Then the downside to drinking came. She began to get sick. And just when she thought she couldn’t get sick anymore she got sick again. Her ten-year-old stomach could not handle the vodka, but on the reverse side, her ten-year-old mind couldn’t handle the sadness.

She sang “Happy Birthday” to herself in the bathroom. It was the last time she celebrated her birthday. She figured if no one else cared enough. Why should she?

She wiped her mouth, clumsily brushed her teeth and crawled onto the sofa to sleep it off. She knew nothing of the headache she would have the next day.


July 6, 1994

Paige was 15 going on 40. It had been two months since Vera Gregory had died from advanced cirrhosis of the liver. Paige had been sent to an orphanage to stay until she turned 18. She hated the orphanage but loved the children there. She looked out for the younger children as Sister Agnes had done for her. The one thing about Paige was that she never forgot kindness.

She had only drunk that one time. It had been enough for her. She had let the sadness come and with the alcohol she had let it go. She had not cried when they carried Vera away. She had expected it. She thought that with her presence came death and abandonment. First her parents, then Sister Agnes, then Mr. Gregory and then Vera. It was all a vicious cycle to her. At 15, she was tired. She was tired of everything. But she never gave up because around her neck was the little silver bracelet and the girl’s name. Phoebe. She held on to hope.

She had been at the orphanage for only two months when, in July, she was told to pack her things. She was told her father had come to get her. Paige was perplexed and confused but eager to get out of the orphanage. She packed up her worn out suitcase and trudged slowly toward the front office. She saw a man dressed nicely in slacks, a white button up shirt and a tie. He turned slowly to see her.

It had been ten years but Paige recognized the face of Mr. Gregory. She was confused and silent as he finished signing papers and together they left the building and entered the parking lot. They approached an old baby blue, beat-up pick up truck and he opened the door for her. She got in. The inside was as beat-up as the outside. When he got in on the driver’s side he had already taken off his tie and unbuttoned the top button of his shirt. His graying hair was messy. Paige smiled at him. He did not smile back.

“Alright, listen to me,” he said to her, his voice rough and void of emotions. “I never wanted another person’s kid okay?”

Paige held in her surprise and nodded.

“So don’t expect no fatherly crap. You’re still mine because my name is on the adoption certificate. You have my last name. That makes you mine. I have a farm out in the valley. Not too far from San Francisco. You’ll help me work it. It’ll be hard, but you’ll get room and board and an education. And you won’t be holed up here.”

Paige nodded again. She sat very close to the passenger window and hugged herself.

“Why do you look so afraid? Paige, I’m not going to touch you. I don’t know if any of Vera’s string of guys ever messed with you but you won’t get any of that from me. And if any of my farm hands mess with you then they’ll be in for a good beating too. Okay?”

Paige nodded and relaxed a little. And watched the road pass beneath them as they began the journey to the farm. Halfway there he spoke again.

“You sure don’t have much to say do you Paige?”

“No sir.”

“Sir? I like that, shows you got respect and character. You’re a good kid aren’t you?”

“I hope so sir.”

He nodded and turned up the music on the radio. It was country music. Paige had always disliked country music. But at 15 she found a new appreciation for it. She began to think that perhaps, Mr. Gregory was the best thing to come along. When they got to the farm she was impressed with the acreage and with the animals that roamed about. A mutt bounded up to Paige and rolled over at her feet. She had never had a dog. She reached down and began to pet the creature and fell in love instantly.

She followed her adoptive father into the two-story farmhouse and asked politely if she could wash up so she could help with dinner. She took note that Mr. Gregory looked pleased.

“Sure thing, Paige, but first you have to meet someone.”

Paige smiled. She followed him into the kitchen where a beautiful woman was rolling dough into flour. She stopped and turned around when Mr. Gregory came into the kitchen with Paige in tow.

“Oh my, Charles. Is this Paige?”

“That’s her. Paige. This is my wife Helen. Helen, this is Paige.”

Helen extended her hand to Paige and Paige immediately took it and shook it. She smiled her best smile eager to be accepted and loved. Helen looked her over smiling. Paige took note that she had a wonderful warm smile. She felt Helen’s hand on her cheek.

“Oh my dear you are beautiful aren’t you?”

Paige blushed and shrugged. She looked to the ground, not used to compliments.

“Well, Charles would you look there, she’s modest as well.”

“Yes she is and she wants to help with dinner. I figured we’d give her a chance to unpack and shower first though.”

“I think that’s a lovely idea. I’ll show her up to her room.”

Paige followed Helen Gregory up to her new room. She almost cried tears of joy when she entered the room. It was a pale shade of yellow with a beautiful antique mahogany bed