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Set in Season 3 immediately following the events of "Fast Food for Thought", but more importantly, somewhere just before the tag of my story "Enchanted to Meet You"... (Available on Fanfiction.net)
My thanks to Kimberley Williamson for allowing me to use a character she created - the story wouldn't be the same without him.
It had already been a strange day even before this woman had shown up, Francine reflected to herself as she surveyed the intruder currently gazing around her apartment with a look of distaste. Spending hours locked in a freezer, certain that she was going to die there, and with Amanda of all people scolding her for being too pessimistic.
It was ridiculous, she thought, even all these hours later. They'd been padlocked in an airless coffin with no one likely to find them in time and Amanda had been optimistic in the face of all of it. Even Lee had had the sense to be frightened - he'd told her later that he'd been racing against that flash freezing timer and even just a few minutes delay would have been a disaster.
Of course, Amanda hadn't been cheerful the entire time - and apparently that little slip on her part had led to… this.
She'd gotten home, had a nice long bath to chase away the last remnants of the chill from the freezer and then had dressed in her favorite silk pajamas. Amanda, she thought, was probably home in something flannel and warm, but she was in a cheating-death mood and wanted to be as completely indulgent as humanly possible. With perfect timing, the delivery guy from the Blue Fox had knocked at her door just as she'd finished pouring herself a glass of wine. She'd accepted the bag, tipped him heavily because she was feeling reckless, and dished up an absolutely heavenly Veal Paprikash which she'd enjoyed by candlelight and a Dean Martin album. And then, just as she had sunk back into a corner of the sofa with that box of DeVaronna chocolates Amanda had given her in one hand and her TV remote in the other, there had been a knock at the door.
She glanced at her watch - midnight on the dot. What kind of crazy person would be knocking on her door at this hour? She got up, grabbed her gun from her purse, and padded over to the door, giving a quick check through the peephole. All she could see on the other side was a middle-aged woman with a slightly annoyed expression, so after putting the gun back down - but still nearby - she swung the door open and felt her mouth drop open.
The woman on the other side was one of the most extraordinary people she'd ever seen - definitely older but with rich auburn hair and deep blue eyes which were made up in a way that reminded Francine of Elizabeth Taylor in Cleopatra. And yet, somehow it didn't seem overdone because the woman had such a vibrant presence that you simply couldn't imagine her any other way. As she continued to look over her visitor, she came to the conclusion that this must be a neighbor she'd never met, since she was dressed in a billowing purple silk and green chiffon dress and robe combination and had no sign of any outdoor clothing.
Suddenly aware that she hadn't spoken yet, she finally greeted her. "May I help you?"
The woman tilted her head and studied her carefully. "Well, you certainly look like you could be a witch."
"Excuse me?" Francine replied, in a shocked voice.
"A witch," the woman repeated. "The Council received a notification tonight that there was a possibility that you're an unregistered witch and since I'm the Council President, I've come to ascertain your status."
"Excuse me?" she repeated.
The woman rolled her eyes theatrically. "Or perhaps you're mortal after all since you appear to be simple-minded. It's a simple enough concept though - even my idiot son-in-law has managed to grasp it." She pulled out a large ancient looking book and a quill - from where Francine had no idea; they seemed to have just appeared out of thin air. "Now let's begin - you are Francine Desmond?"
Francine nodded.
"And are you aware of any ancestors who may have been a witch or a warlock?"
She suddenly understood what was happening. "Did Lee put you up to this?"
The woman consulted her book. "Lee? No, there is no Lee listed here. The alert came from an Amanda King."
"Excuse me?"
"It says here that she claimed that "it's just sometimes you're just such a witch." Is your witchcraft only part-time? Does it come and go? We occasionally get that with witches that spend too much time with mortals."
"Amanda sent you? Seriously? This seems like a prank too far for her." said Francine, still blocking the door.
"A prank?" The strange woman wrinkled her lip in disgust. "Are you saying she labelled you as a witch as a prank? How rude."
"No," Francine answered baldly. "She had every right to call me a witch at the time - and a lot of other times if I'm being honest. But to send you here to continue the joke? That doesn't seem like her."
"I see. You think my presence is a joke." The woman was looking more annoyed with every passing moment. "Nonetheless, it has come to the attention of the council and must be dealt with. Now, do you have any ancestors-"
"I'm sorry, but your little joke is done and I am not in the mood to deal with this any more. Good night." Francine closed the door firmly in her face, locked it, and turned back to the couch, only to find herself face-to-face with the woman who was now in her living room.
"-who might have been a witch or a warlock?" the woman continued as if Francine hadn't interrupted, or indeed as if she shouldn't have still been outside the front door.
"How did you do that?" gasped Francine, turning to check the door which was still shut and locked.
The woman sighed and the book vanished. "Mortals! Honestly, your breed is simply unable to concentrate for a moment! How difficult is it for you to answer such a simple question?"
"Look, I don't know how you did that, but I want you out of my apartment now!" Francine stalked back to the door and opened it, gesturing for the woman to leave. "After the day I've had, I don't need to be harassed, no matter how much Amanda is paying you!"
"Paying me?" The woman had made no move to leave. In fact, she was now wandering around the apartment, picking up knick-knacks and studying them. "My dear girl, this is not a paid position. I earned it with three centuries of seniority, just like any good witch." She paused in front of Jonathan II the Iguana's terrarium. "What an unusual familiar. So many witches don't consider the usefulness of reptiles that way. I had a black cat, of course, but that was a gift from my father."
"Oh, so now you're claiming to be a witch too?" Francine humored her while she inched around to get the woman between her and the door, aiming to shove her out as soon as she was in position.
"Well, of course I am," drawled the intruder. "Who else would come to confirm an undocumented witch? A troll?"
Finally in position, Francine darted forward, hands out in front of her, ready to heave the woman back out, only to find herself stumbling through thin air.
"Dear, oh dear," said her unwanted guest, with an amused look. "Did you trip on something?"
"Who are you?" gasped out Francine, finally starting to worry about her state of mind. "What do you want?"
"I told you. I'm the President of the Council of Witches and I'm here to see if you're one of us." She crooked a finger at Francine. "Now, come over here and tell Auntie Endora all about the woman in this daguerreotype photo."
Francine looked to where - what had she said her name was? Eleanora? - was pointing. "That's my great-grandmother," she found herself answering. "Elizabeth Howe."
"I thought so," said Endora. "You have the look of her descendents." She paused and studied Francine for a moment. "Although thankfully you didn't get her nose." There was a quiet chiming sound and the book appeared again, floating in the air beside her and after glancing at the open page. Endora gave her a knowing smile and tapped the side of her nose. "Or perhaps you did. She'd approve - she always hated her nose. Do you keep in touch with her?"
Fracine forced herself to lower her hand from which she had self consciously lifted to touch her nose. "Keep in touch? Of course, I don't keep in touch! She lived over a hundred years ago!"
"Well, of course she did, my dear. The last time I saw her must have been the Battle of Waterloo at least. But you haven't kept in touch?"
"No," said Francine snarkily. "I mislaid my Ouija board at some point and never got back to it."
Endora shuddered. "Ugh! Those boards made our lives a nightmare - so many reports coming through - and all of them turning out to be teenage girls having sleepover parties!" She began flipping through the book. "Elizabeth, Elizabeth, Elizabeth…" she muttered before finally exclaiming "Aha! There she is! Well, this explains everything!"
"What explains everything?" Francine found herself asking despite herself.
"One of her children married into a mortal family and then shunned the witch world because it was considered embarrassing. Stupid mortals - they get so offended for the stupidest reasons." She snapped the book shut. "Well, that explains why you don't know about your ancestry and why the alert came in so clearly earlier. Now, are you sure you're not a witch?"
"Well, apparently Amanda King says I am," replied Francine, annoyed at the reminder.
"Does she have reason to believe that you may actually be one? Have you hexed her at any time? Performed a spell in front of her? Attempted witchcraft in her presence? Charmed a man away from her?"
"Quite the opposite on that last one," said Francine without thinking. "But no, of course I haven't done any of those things! Witchcraft isn't real! It's a fairy tale for children!"
Endora raised an already perfectly arched eyebrow even higher. "Not real?" she repeated. "Perhaps you'd be better off as a child then." She raised her hand and snapped her fingers and Francine suddenly found herself looking up at Endora as if she'd shrunk somehow. She looked down and realized her silk pajamas were pooled around her as if they were now several sizes too big.
"What did you do?" she asked in a high voice, realizing a beat later that her voice was really much too high. She turned to look in the mirror and saw herself. Well, not her current self but her five-year-old self, looking for all the world like she was wearing her mother's clothes as dress up. "What did you do?" she repeated, stamping her foot. "Put me back!"
Endora smiled and snapped her fingers again, and Francine found herself back in her own, thankfully adult, body. "Now do you believe?" she asked.
Francine nodded and took a deep breath. "I guess I have to. And you think I might be a witch?" she asked. "A real one?"
"Well, you might be," conceded Endora. "But it does seem odd you never noticed having any magic. Then again, after a few generations of inbreeding with mortals, it may have disappeared from your family line."
"Disappeared? It does that?" Francine was disappointed somehow, even though five minutes ago, she hadn't even believed magic existed.
"It can," said Endora. "My own grandchildren, for instance. Both perfectly delightful creatures, I assure you, but Tabitha is a witch and poor Adam took after his father." Her little moue of annoyance showed how she felt about that. "Now there's nothing to say Adam's children might not be witches or warlocks, but it does tend to be stronger down the female side of the family."
"Well, my great-grandmother - Elizabeth - she's on the female side of my family, isn't she?" Francine said hopefully.
"Yes, but with so many mortals in your family along the way…" sighed Endora. "Well, if you don't know for certain, we'll just have to run some tests."
Francine never saw her make any movement, but suddenly, a giant ornate stand-up mirror appeared in the middle of the room.
"Now, come over here and let the mirror look at you," Endora instructed.
Francine moved slowly toward it. "Let it look at me? Shouldn't I be looking at it?"
"Not when it's a magic mirror, Dear," Endora scoffed. "Yes, stand right there. Mirror, what say you?"
There was a pause and then Francine's reflection shimmered and disappeared, replaced by swirling fog and a booming voice came from the mirror. "A descendent of witches, yes, but with very little power left, all of it magnetic." The fog vanished, leaving Francine staring at her own reflection again for a beat, just before the mirror vanished as well.
"Magnetic?" she echoed. "What does that mean?"
Endora walked around her, studying her carefully. "Now that does make sense," she muttered to herself. "Magnetism - of course." She stopped her circuit and cocked her head, staring at a bemused Francine. "It's a type of passive magic - it means you are able to attract and repel people at will. I imagine you've always been able to convince people to do what you want. You've probably left a trail of broken-hearted men in your wake. No one can resist you."
"Well, I wouldn't go that far," countered Francine. "I mean, men find me attractive, but I haven't always been able to keep the ones I wanted."
Endora waved off her argument with a wave of her hand. "Those are the exceptions - they were either destined for someone else or were otherwise unworthy of you. When you find a man who sticks with you, even when you're doing your best to repel him - look again. He may be your Mr. Right. And for the rest of them, well, I'm sure you are very persuasive when you want to be, though."
Francine thought back to all the times she'd seduced men into compliance in the field - or in the interrogation room. "I suppose so," she admitted. "It has been handy in my line of work."
"What is it you do, Dear?"
Francine could hear the echo of something from her past in the question but couldn't quite place it. "Well, I'm an intelligence agent, and the second in command to my department head and the Agency depends on me for… well, actually I do a lot…" She shook her head, alarmed that she thought she could hear Amanda laughing.
"Sounds like it," said Endora smugly as if she could hear that phantom laughter too. "Intelligence Agent? Now that does sound like a perfect job for a witch with your charm."
"So I am a witch?" asked a confused Francine.
"Sadly no, not quite, but you have the possibility of passing something to your children, so I'll just make a little note in your file."
She ignored the disparaging snort Francine gave off at that idea, and waved her hand to where the giant book was floating in the air. A feather quill appeared and scribbled away by itself on the page beside Francine's name, before vanishing again.
"Well, I must be off," said Endora. "Time and tide wait for no witch." She lifted her arms and appeared to be about to vanish when Francine held up a hand to stop her.
"Wait!" she exclaimed. "You said… is my great-grandmother really still alive? I could meet her?"
"Well, of course you could, my dear," answered Endora. "I'll let her know you'd like her to drop by, shall I?"
"Y-y-yes, I'd like that," Francine stammered.
"Good - I'm glad you realize family is important. And I'm sure the two of you will get on like a house on fire," Endora smiled - almost as if she meant it. "She loves her chocolate too."
She nodded toward the abandoned box of chocolates, which Francine now noticed was twice the size of the box Amanda had given her. She looked back at Endora but the witch had vanished. She turned to look at Jonathan II who stared back at her from his heated rock, blinking slowly.
"I'm not crazy, am I? You saw that too, didn't you?" she asked him.
"Yup, I saw it," said Jonathan, lifting a cricket to his mouth and taking a bite. "And you're not crazy at all."
"Oh my God," muttered Francine, dropping her face into her hands.
"Grandmother! How lovely to see you!" Tabitha jumped up from her chair and leaned in to give Endora a kiss on the cheek.
"Hello, my Darling," said Endora, stepping back to survey her. "You are as lovely as ever!"
"To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?" askedTabitha, taking her by the hand and leading her to the couch. "Especially this late at night?"
"Do I need a reason to visit my favorite granddaughter?" asked Endora. Off Tabitha's raised eyebrow, she gave a delighted laugh. "Such a clever girl! Well, I know you said you wanted to help the mortal world with its laws and whatnot…."
"Yes, and?" responded Tabitha, still quizzical.
"And I just met the most delightful near-witch tonight and I think I know exactly where you should work!" exclaimed her grandmother with a beaming smile. "It's called The Agency…"