http://katleept.livejournal.com/ (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
katleept.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
tamingthemuse2014-03-20 06:06 pm
katleept.livejournal.com) wrote in tamingthemuse2014-03-20 06:06 pm
Entry tags:
#400: Mahogany - A Certain Lack of Choices - Kat Lee - Charmed
Title: A Certain Lack of Choices
Fandom: Charmed
Prompt: #400: Mahogany
Warnings: Unconventional Het Pairing, Mentioned Character Death, Leo not particularly shown in a good light
Rating: PG/K+
Summary:
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to Spelling Entertainment and any other rightful owners, none of whom are the author, and are used without permission.
Her footsteps echo in the large room as she walks through it, not wanting to see what she is supposed to be seeing and yet unable to not see them. They feel the room. Some are more beautiful than others. She half suspects to spy one inlaid with gold or some other kind of jewels -- this is California, after all --, but each is as ominous as the others.
He watches her through dark, half-lidded eyes. Her pain is so obviously great that he almost feels it as though it is his own. He wishes it was. He's buried many people but none who loss tore his heart out as much as this has taken hers. He wishes he could remove all her pain. He longs to hold her and find a way to make things right, but that isn't possible, Cole knows.
He can't turn back time. He couldn't save her sister then, and he can't save her now. He can't change the future or the past. Piper won't let him close enough to hold her, and he has no right to do so. She belongs to another man, after all, a man who should be here now instead of off gallivanting after whatever orders the Council has now given him, a man who is an Angel while he is nothing more than a Demon, not fit to touch the heels whose sound now echoes in the large, still room.
But he can help a little bit to ease her pain. He can do whatever she allows him to do. He glowers at the two men who follow her like cold, stony vultures, waiting to profit off of the dead and those who lost them. When they simply look back, unmoving, he bares his white teeth, allows the blackness of his soul to be seen in his eyes, and points to the doorway from whence they came. They scurry through it like mice, only one daring to call, "Whenever you make your decision, Miss Halliwell, just call us. We'll be nearby."
She barely hears him, barely notices their departure, but always a lady of manners, she does murmur in reply to the voice she knows is talking to her. He looks around them at the caskets. The one Piper is standing before is made of an iron painted a deep, dark red. The inside is made of shiny mahogany wood. It's one of the nicest of the lot, if one can ever really consider a casket to be nice, Cole muses. Mortals have created some of the strangest customs for caring for their dead.
"Do you think she would like this one?" Her voice is so quiet that he almost doesn't realize she's speaking at first, but then he feels the shift in the air and notes that her pain seems to have somehow become even more palpable. He didn't think that was possible, but then he should know by now that, with Piper, anything is possible. No one cares . . . No one loves as deeply and as purely as she does.
He comes up to stand behind her. He knows, without being able to see her face, that her deep, brown eyes, once so beautiful and full of life, are now full of tears she is barely holding at bay. "Piper," he starts to say, but then she explodes.
Something falls somewhere within the room; he doesn't turn to look at it. It's not important. He'd help her explode the whole world if she wanted to and that would make her feel better, but he knows she doesn't.
"How am I supposed to do this?!" She's crying openly, weeping with all her heart, and he curses Leo another thousand times for not being man enough to be here with her. "How am I supposed to bury my sister?! She was more than my sister; she was my best friend! She was . . . " She struggles to express the thoughts filling her grieving heart in some form that he might be able to understand.
"She was Prue!" she says at last, throwing up her hands. Another vase on the wall explodes. "She was the one I've always looked to, the one who saved us more times than I can ever save us, the one who led us, the one who kept us sane through everything insane that's been happening to us ever since we became Witches!"
He wraps his arms around her; she mistakes his intent. "I don't care if they hear me! Let them hear me! How many times have we almost died saving their stupid butts, saving the whole world?! And yet the Powers, those stupid, sorry Elders that Leo practically worships, can't even save Prue once?! I don't even know why I'm in this fight!"
She sobs; he holds her tightly and grasps her hands that are trying to bat him away. "I shouldn't be here! I shouldn't be alive!"
"But you are," he whispers when she finally quiets. His mouth is right next to her ear as he continues, "You are alive, Piper. You survived. Prue wouldn't have wanted it any other way. You know that."
Her scent fills him. She smells like vanilla and the sweetest of flowers just as they're beginning to open in the start of Spring. Her long hair is falling all around his nose, brushing over his lips that are close enough to nibble her ear . . . But this isn't the time or the place. He has no right. He's here to comfort her, to help her any way he can, not to take advantage of her, never to take advantage of the one woman he truly loves.
"But what about what I want?" he whimpers. "I'm not ready for this, Cole! I can't be! I can't lead us! I can't save my sister, not like Prue did! I can never be as courageous and bold as she was!"
You already are, he wants to tell her, but he knows she'd take it the wrong way. Instead, he whispers sorrowfully, "I'm sorry Fate didn't give you a choice, Piper."
No, she thinks fiercely, Leo didn't give her a choice. It's his fault she lived instead of Prue, but he's right: She doesn't have a choice. She wasn't giving one then; she isn't going to be given one now, at least not a real choice. All she can choose now is how to bury Prue, not how to save her, and she has to do this. She has to do it, because Phoebe can't, and she has to do it, because a decent burial is the very least her sister deserves.
"I'm sorry," she whispers, rubbing fiercely at her eyes. "I didn't mean to explode on you."
He grins down at her ebony-clad shoulder. "You didn't explode on me," he tells her quietly, "and I don't think those two vases are looking for an apology, either."
He feels the corners of her pretty, little mouth tweak. She almost smiles. Almost, but then she remembers what she's looking at. She examines the mahogany coffin again and asks quietly, "Do you think she'd like it?"
"Absolutely." She'd like anything she picked out for her, because her sister cared enough to make a careful decision she hated having to make. "She always said you had good taste," he adds humbly.
In everything but men, they both think.
A quiet moment passes with him still holding her, her tears racing silently down her flushed cheeks, her eyes locked on the casket and his on her. At last, she whispers, "Thank you for coming with me, Cole."
"It's the least I could do, Piper," he returns, and they both know it is the least Leo could have done as well. He yearns again to have the opportunity to one day beat some sense into that blasted White Lighter for being so stupid as to not cherish Piper as the treasure she is, but then he pushes those thoughts to the side and once more focuses on doing whatever he can to help Piper through her agonizing grief. "Want me to call the vultures back now?"
"They're not vultures, Cole," she says, and he grins for he can hear the lighter air in her tone. "They're morticians."
"Here, vultures!" he calls.
She turns, twisting out of his hands, and slaps at his arm. "You're horrible!"
He catches her hand with his, and for a moment all too brief, their fingers entwine. He wishes he could tell her she loves him for being horrible, but he knows she never will. Then the vultures are there, with papers full of figures and proposals for how to squeeze more money out of her in their greedy, little hands. He releases her to the future she has but doesn't stray again from her side for the rest of the day.
The End
Fandom: Charmed
Prompt: #400: Mahogany
Warnings: Unconventional Het Pairing, Mentioned Character Death, Leo not particularly shown in a good light
Rating: PG/K+
Summary:
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to Spelling Entertainment and any other rightful owners, none of whom are the author, and are used without permission.
Her footsteps echo in the large room as she walks through it, not wanting to see what she is supposed to be seeing and yet unable to not see them. They feel the room. Some are more beautiful than others. She half suspects to spy one inlaid with gold or some other kind of jewels -- this is California, after all --, but each is as ominous as the others.
He watches her through dark, half-lidded eyes. Her pain is so obviously great that he almost feels it as though it is his own. He wishes it was. He's buried many people but none who loss tore his heart out as much as this has taken hers. He wishes he could remove all her pain. He longs to hold her and find a way to make things right, but that isn't possible, Cole knows.
He can't turn back time. He couldn't save her sister then, and he can't save her now. He can't change the future or the past. Piper won't let him close enough to hold her, and he has no right to do so. She belongs to another man, after all, a man who should be here now instead of off gallivanting after whatever orders the Council has now given him, a man who is an Angel while he is nothing more than a Demon, not fit to touch the heels whose sound now echoes in the large, still room.
But he can help a little bit to ease her pain. He can do whatever she allows him to do. He glowers at the two men who follow her like cold, stony vultures, waiting to profit off of the dead and those who lost them. When they simply look back, unmoving, he bares his white teeth, allows the blackness of his soul to be seen in his eyes, and points to the doorway from whence they came. They scurry through it like mice, only one daring to call, "Whenever you make your decision, Miss Halliwell, just call us. We'll be nearby."
She barely hears him, barely notices their departure, but always a lady of manners, she does murmur in reply to the voice she knows is talking to her. He looks around them at the caskets. The one Piper is standing before is made of an iron painted a deep, dark red. The inside is made of shiny mahogany wood. It's one of the nicest of the lot, if one can ever really consider a casket to be nice, Cole muses. Mortals have created some of the strangest customs for caring for their dead.
"Do you think she would like this one?" Her voice is so quiet that he almost doesn't realize she's speaking at first, but then he feels the shift in the air and notes that her pain seems to have somehow become even more palpable. He didn't think that was possible, but then he should know by now that, with Piper, anything is possible. No one cares . . . No one loves as deeply and as purely as she does.
He comes up to stand behind her. He knows, without being able to see her face, that her deep, brown eyes, once so beautiful and full of life, are now full of tears she is barely holding at bay. "Piper," he starts to say, but then she explodes.
Something falls somewhere within the room; he doesn't turn to look at it. It's not important. He'd help her explode the whole world if she wanted to and that would make her feel better, but he knows she doesn't.
"How am I supposed to do this?!" She's crying openly, weeping with all her heart, and he curses Leo another thousand times for not being man enough to be here with her. "How am I supposed to bury my sister?! She was more than my sister; she was my best friend! She was . . . " She struggles to express the thoughts filling her grieving heart in some form that he might be able to understand.
"She was Prue!" she says at last, throwing up her hands. Another vase on the wall explodes. "She was the one I've always looked to, the one who saved us more times than I can ever save us, the one who led us, the one who kept us sane through everything insane that's been happening to us ever since we became Witches!"
He wraps his arms around her; she mistakes his intent. "I don't care if they hear me! Let them hear me! How many times have we almost died saving their stupid butts, saving the whole world?! And yet the Powers, those stupid, sorry Elders that Leo practically worships, can't even save Prue once?! I don't even know why I'm in this fight!"
She sobs; he holds her tightly and grasps her hands that are trying to bat him away. "I shouldn't be here! I shouldn't be alive!"
"But you are," he whispers when she finally quiets. His mouth is right next to her ear as he continues, "You are alive, Piper. You survived. Prue wouldn't have wanted it any other way. You know that."
Her scent fills him. She smells like vanilla and the sweetest of flowers just as they're beginning to open in the start of Spring. Her long hair is falling all around his nose, brushing over his lips that are close enough to nibble her ear . . . But this isn't the time or the place. He has no right. He's here to comfort her, to help her any way he can, not to take advantage of her, never to take advantage of the one woman he truly loves.
"But what about what I want?" he whimpers. "I'm not ready for this, Cole! I can't be! I can't lead us! I can't save my sister, not like Prue did! I can never be as courageous and bold as she was!"
You already are, he wants to tell her, but he knows she'd take it the wrong way. Instead, he whispers sorrowfully, "I'm sorry Fate didn't give you a choice, Piper."
No, she thinks fiercely, Leo didn't give her a choice. It's his fault she lived instead of Prue, but he's right: She doesn't have a choice. She wasn't giving one then; she isn't going to be given one now, at least not a real choice. All she can choose now is how to bury Prue, not how to save her, and she has to do this. She has to do it, because Phoebe can't, and she has to do it, because a decent burial is the very least her sister deserves.
"I'm sorry," she whispers, rubbing fiercely at her eyes. "I didn't mean to explode on you."
He grins down at her ebony-clad shoulder. "You didn't explode on me," he tells her quietly, "and I don't think those two vases are looking for an apology, either."
He feels the corners of her pretty, little mouth tweak. She almost smiles. Almost, but then she remembers what she's looking at. She examines the mahogany coffin again and asks quietly, "Do you think she'd like it?"
"Absolutely." She'd like anything she picked out for her, because her sister cared enough to make a careful decision she hated having to make. "She always said you had good taste," he adds humbly.
In everything but men, they both think.
A quiet moment passes with him still holding her, her tears racing silently down her flushed cheeks, her eyes locked on the casket and his on her. At last, she whispers, "Thank you for coming with me, Cole."
"It's the least I could do, Piper," he returns, and they both know it is the least Leo could have done as well. He yearns again to have the opportunity to one day beat some sense into that blasted White Lighter for being so stupid as to not cherish Piper as the treasure she is, but then he pushes those thoughts to the side and once more focuses on doing whatever he can to help Piper through her agonizing grief. "Want me to call the vultures back now?"
"They're not vultures, Cole," she says, and he grins for he can hear the lighter air in her tone. "They're morticians."
"Here, vultures!" he calls.
She turns, twisting out of his hands, and slaps at his arm. "You're horrible!"
He catches her hand with his, and for a moment all too brief, their fingers entwine. He wishes he could tell her she loves him for being horrible, but he knows she never will. Then the vultures are there, with papers full of figures and proposals for how to squeeze more money out of her in their greedy, little hands. He releases her to the future she has but doesn't stray again from her side for the rest of the day.
The End