Chapter Text
Cole gently traced the engraved words upon the wall with trembling fingers. Phoebe Halliwell. 1975 -- 2003.
He'd felt her die. For months he'd shut her out, closing himself to her joys, her fears, her loves, her pain. It was the only way he'd been able to move on -- by completely severing his connections to her. It was the only way to let her move on. But that one moment crashed through his defenses, and he'd heard her scream, felt her agony...and then nothing. He didn't know how or why, only that she was gone. He didn't believe it -- refused to believe it -- but the truth was here before him. Phoebe was dead.
The smoldering ruin of Halliwell Manor had given him no answer. An explosion, the police claimed and the news dutifully reported. A gas leak in the basement, they said. Cole knew better, however. It was demonic in origin. But the traces of energy he sensed there had been a whirlwind of confusion, too much to sort out, and he'd been unable to determine who or what was responsible.
His gaze drifted to the other names carved on the mausoleum wall. Piper and Wyatt, interred together. Paige. And Prue, of course, though her death came two years earlier than her sisters'. The Charmed Ones were no more, finally slain by the evil forces they had fought for the past five years. It had happened on Halloween. Phoebe had probably been busily getting ready to go to a party, wearing a costume to entice her latest lover. Or had the sisters expected the attack? Did they have a chance to fight back?
He returned his eyes to Phoebe's vault, resting his forehead against the plaque that bore her name, pressing his fingers so hard against the letters the sharp metal cut into his skin. "I'm sorry, Phoebe," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I should've been there for you. You needed me gone, but I should've kept watch. I'll find a way to fix this. Somehow. I promise."
He heard the music-like sound of someone orbing behind him. He knew without even turning it was the Charmed Ones' Whitelighter, his former brother-in-law. "Cole?" Leo said hesitantly.
Cole glanced over his shoulder. "Leo."
"How...?" Leo asked, his expression betraying his shock at seeing Cole alive.
"Does it really matter?" Cole said with a nonchalant shrug. "I let you believe I was dead. It seemed the thing to do at the time."
"What are you doing here?" he demanded suspiciously.
Cole inclined his head toward Phoebe's tomb. "Paying my respects," he said. "My wi—Phoebe's dead. Did you think I wouldn't care?"
"I don't know what to think," Leo said warily. "You apparently took elaborate measures to fake your death and disappear. Now you're back? You must have a reason."
A small smile played across Cole's lips. He looked away from Leo and put his hand over Phoebe's name once more. Where his fingers had bled, the metal letters had melted from the acid in his blood. "I'm bringing her back, Leo. I'm going to make this so this didn't happen. She'll be alive again."
Leo shook his head. "You can't do that, Cole. You can't change their deaths. It was their fate --"
"Fate?" Cole snarled, spinning around to face Leo. "I refuse to accept fate. I'm going to bring her back or die trying."
"You've tried to change the past already," Leo warned. "It has a way of working out with the same results. Look what happened with Prue...."
"Don't you care enough to try, Whitelighter?" Cole snapped. "You lost your wife and son. If I can do this Piper and Wyatt will be alive again. Don't you care about that?"
"Of course I do!" Leo protested, pain crossing his face. "But there was nothing I could do...."
"Nothing you could do," Cole agreed. "But not nothing I can do."
"The Elders will try to stop you," Leo said. "I'll have to stop you."
Cole laughed harshly. "What are you going to do? Heal me to death? Get out of here, Whitelighter. Go before I make you go. Go warn your precious Elders. They. Can't. Stop me."
The fire in Cole's eyes and voice was enough to convince Leo. He gave Piper's vault a quick, longing look, then orbed from the mausoleum. Cole watched him go, then closed his eyes and reached for the power within him.
"He's right. You will not be allowed to do this."
Cole sighed irritably and opened his eyes to find two men, one tall and dark, the other older and grey-haired, in black suits before him -- two of the Avatars, the ones who had enhanced his powers even more and given him the power to affect reality. "We allowed you to twist time once," the older of the two said. "We understood your need to make it appear you were dead and allowed you to do so because it would bring you to us. But you are to only use what gifts we have given you to benefit the Avatars, not for your own personal gain."
"I don't have time to argue this," Cole told them. "I'm going to do this. And you can't stop me, either."
"Yes, we can," the second Avatar stated. "It's become clear we never should have asked you to join us. You remain too attached to mortal cares. And yet you are too powerful to allow to exist if you are not one of us. Therefore we will --."
He never finished his sentence. Cole waved his hand at the Avatars, sending them crashing against the opposite wall of the mausoleum. Bricks and mortar crumbled around them. With another flick of his fingers, he caused the fallen bricks to rise and move, building walls around the Avatars and sealing them within before they could react to the attack.
Cole calmly regarded his handiwork. He knew the prison wouldn't hold them for long, but long enough. "No one is stopping me," he whispered fiercely.