Disclaimer: Charmed was created by Constance M. Burge

I make no monetary profit from this story.

Summary: Paige's thoughts on Cole.

Author’s note: Set straight after "Centennial Charmed." - My first Charmed fic, so be gentle! :)

Rating PG




Where do I begin? ...

Let's try here ... I sigh to myself as I write these words, which no one but myself and my diary will ever read. At last I have a moment alone to write them, or I will go mad.

I write with a great sense of relief, but also sadness. Relief that you can no longer torture Phoebe. Relief that she is free. Free from your pull, your snare, finally escaped your driftnets. For so long I saw her grieve and suffer over you, what you had done to her, manipulated and used her.

Did you love her? I can't read your innermost thoughts, though you believed you did. Was it love? Obsession? Or both?

I wanted to vanquish you - for her, and I tried and failed miserably.

But I also wanted things to be right again. Why did you have to become evil again?! Why?!! Why ... when she would have loved you as you are. You had it in you to be good, Cole, and stay good and you blew it major league. Did you get impatient? If only you'd waited a little longer. Dammit! Why did you have to cause us so much pain?!

I was afraid of you for the longest time. You were evil, then good, then evil again. Around you I felt I always had to watch my back, lest I find an energy ball in it.

If you could come back, would you blow it again? Or would you make good with your third chance? I would like to think the latter, but as I said, I never know with you.

I feel sorry for you, I really do. Perhaps your soul was torn between your evil nature and the one you loved, and in the end, the former won out. You could have beaten it, Cole and you didn't even try. I hope that wherever you are, you are in bitter tears as I am, knowing you could have made something of your life. You could have been good. You could have been good. And stayed good. I know you could.

Your house felt so empty, so cold that night. I half expected you to pop back up like a jack in the box and unpleasantly surprise us, as you have done before, but this time you did not. I didn’t even feel the cool breeze blowing over me from the open window, the white mesh curtains swaying in the gentle wind. You were gone. Gone. I would have to wait for a moment alone to grieve. To grieve for what could have been.

Will I miss you? Yes, I admit, I will and I do, but I do not miss Phoebe's torment, vanquished along with you.

Farewell, Mr Turner, goodbye. The spell has been cast. Happy birthday, Cole.

I'm sorry it had to be your last.



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