Title: Free
Fandom: Charmed
Author: Apache Firecat
Dedicated To: To Shannen, To Jordan, and to another 8-year-old girl in not altogether a different situation
Characters: Andy/Prue
Rating: G/K
Summary: She's lived for so long in a life that wasn't really hers, since she was eight years old.
Word Count: 2,627
Written For: Fan FlashWorks Challenge 459. Amnesty: 455. Long and 100 Ships 52. Salt
Warnings: Character Deaths
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to their rightful owners, not the author, and are used without permission.








She lifted her face to the wind, a sound of birds crying far over her head sending a sense of peace through her. She used to love the ocean, before. Before her mother died. Before her sisters had to depend on her. Before she had to hide her own tears, her own weaknesses and grief to be strong for them and hold them together while they mourned their mother at far too early an age and tried to find a way pass her, at the time, senseless, death. Staring out at the ocean now, Prue again feels small, but there's a different feeling too.

She tilts her head, not unlike the birds above, as she studies the misty water and the strange feeling that's settled in her heart, in the pit of her stomach, in the very depth of her soul, it seems. She always thought she'd get away from San Fran, and a part of her had envied Phoebe's ability to escape to New York. But neither had lasted. She had quickly come to give up her own dreams to make sure her sisters' futures were secure. Piper had appreciated her every endeavor, her sacrifices, Prue found she could call them now, but it had never felt like Phoebe had.

Phoebe had taken, and taken, and taken. She had taken her toys. She had taken her boyfriends. She had taken Grams' attentions and Piper's admirations. She had never taken her jobs though, Prue realized, reflecting inwardly. Perhaps that was why, at least in part, she had become such a workaholic. She had always known there was life outside of her career, but her career had also been her freedom away from home, away from all the responsibilities in caring for a woman who was already too old to be saddled with three children and two girls who were so much younger than she, not just in age but in all the ways that mattered, and had desperately needed someone.

She had been angry with Phebs, Prue could admit now and was only vaguely aware of the tide slapping against the shore in such a rush that it seemed almost to be echoing her feelings. She had been furious with her when she had bailed right after high school. She had never tried to help the family, it seemed, only herself, and when she'd come back after Grams' funeral, Prue had known she'd wanted something. She'd known her youngest sister had hit rock bottom and had desperately needed her to come bailing her out again -- just at the point of Prue's life when she had finally been about to be free.

It seemed selfish almost to think of it that way, but Grams' death had freed her and Piper. Piper had been set to get married, and had a budding career of her own, and Prue's career had taken off, finally, full-fledged. She had been about to have the money, once the manor was paid off (again), to do anything she wanted, be anything she wanted -- Prue blinked suddenly. Was that rain moving in through the mist, or .... Yes, she was crying.

Yet she was still smiling. Her heart ached for her sisters, but she felt strangely, still, at peace. Something was different. The weight of her world, which she'd felt on her small shoulders starting at the very tender age of eight, was gone, and her gut, which was never wrong in the end, told her it wasn't coming back this time. She was free.

But it was too late, she thought, and closed her eyes against a sudden on-wash of grief. The tide surged again, coming over her toes this time, and Prue reopened her eyes to realize she was suddenly no longer alone. A long shadow fell across her. She looked up, turning toward him, although she already knew who stood behind her. She knew his silhouette, after all, almost as well as she knew her own, or those of her sisters. She knew his presence, and could tell it without a word spoken or a sight.

He smelled the same way he had since they'd first started dating. She smiled at those memories and could almost hear their teenaged laughter. The cologne had been his father's, at first, and she had teased him, at first, but she had always enjoyed the aroma. She had found it comforting after he had passed.

After. He had. Passed. Prue's green eyes widened as she watched him moving toward her, but the tip of fear she began to feel inching its way into her spirit did not make it to her tongue. She did not allow it. She had learned to hone her self control from that same, very early age when she had first started taking care of her sisters, and it did not abandon her now even as her heartbeat quickened. At least, that was the rapidly, increasing, thudding sound she thought she heard as Andy smiled at her.

He had always been such a welcome sight, even when she'd been angry at him, even when she had wanted nothing more than to be able to keep him safe and had accepted she'd have to stay away from him in order to do so, even when... Even when she knew he wasn't supposed to be here. "I must be dreaming," she murmured, more to herself than to him.

He stopped before her and pulled a hand from the pockets of his white trousers to cup the back of her head. Andy never wore white -- it spoiled too quickly in the line of his policework -- She had never thought about it before, but suddenly it struck her that they both had found their lives changed upon her mother's death. He had watched the struggles she and her sisters had gone through, and she knew being friends with them, being more with her, had played a definite role in the career path he had chosen.

She'd known plenty of women who had been scared to date cops or military men -- more who would date them but refused to marry them -- because of their fears of being widowed at an early age. Her smile twisted as she considered how that had never deterred her away from him, but her own life as a Charmed One, that had been forced upon her by "Destiny" and all the other mumbo jumbo Phoebe loved so much (the same that had tried so hard to keep Leo and Piper apart for so long), had been what had made her push him away toward the end. If she had moved faster, given him up faster, would he still be alive?

"Am I, Prue?" Andy's deep voice asked softly as he kissed the top of her head, his fingers threading into the soft ends of her raven hair.

"Are you what?" she asked, searching his eyes and finding a strange blush creeping across her cheeks.

"Am I dead?" he asked. The words came out more bluntly than he'd intended. He dropped his hand, his hands going back into his pockets as they had always had a habit of doing when he was feeling bashful, and he moved from her to walk closer to the water. "I don't feel dead," he admitted.

A gull cried out, as though to pierce his words. She looked up at the birds flying so far above their heads. They seemed larger than gulls, but the sun peering through the mist was bright, almost harsh, and made it impossible to determine their exact features. Prue dismissed the local wildlife and returned her attention to Andy. She never knew how long they had, in these reoccurring dreams she had like this, but they never lasted long enough. Her time with him never lasted long enough.

"You don't feel... dead?" she asked, her words and heart both faltering as she noticed there were no footprints behind him in the sand. "What kind of a statement is that?" she queried, trying desperately not to dwell on the fact that he was indeed most certainly dead and any time they may have had, had their lives been any different, any better, had been stolen far too soon from them both.

He shrugged and turned to look back at her. "Well, do you?"

She frowned, not understanding, or perhaps not wanting to understand, his strange return. The rising wind rippled his white blouse (what was with him and the white today?) and tossed her long hair into her face. She pulled the strands away from her hair, and her nose was suddenly assaulted with a dozen different scents. There was the salt of the ocean, and the familiar, warm spice of Andy's cologne, which his father had worn before him. There was also suddenly the scents of marzipan -- Prue found herself wondering what Piper was cooking to distract her from her sorrows -- and a very strong, picklish odor. Odd, she thought, and for a brief moment, found herself reminiscing about another life event that so many women took for granted that she herself had never experienced. They said pickles were topped the list of pregnant women's cravings, but she'd never been pregnant and never would be now.

Because Andy was gone, she thought quickly. He stood before her, but she knew this was only his ghost. He was gone, and she'd never marry. She might date again, but her heart would never belong to another. Only... She wasn't going to date either, was she?

Andy smiled patiently, watching the myriad mixture of Prue's jumbled thoughts and emotions displaying over her beautiful face. "It's not all bad, Prue," he called to her over the rising wind. The cries above their heads were also growing louder, but there was no need to rush. There would never be another need to rush. He walked back to her, holding out his hands and smiling invitingly, warmly, smiling at her like he had not in so long now.

Had it really, Prue wondered, been such a short time since his death? Had it really only been a few years since Grams' death? Since she and her sisters had come into their powers, their world had changed forever, and she had finally been forced to accept that all the things other women got to take for granted she would never have? She might have her career, might be able to keep it if she was truly lucky, but she would never know the pleasures of settling down with a man she loved and who loved her and raising the typical 2.5 kids. She had raised children, yes, but those had been her sisters. They didn't count, not in the same way.

And the only man she'd ever want to marry stood before her now, already dead. Yet he looked so happy, so excited, so peaceful, so... almost... giddy? He took her hand in one hand, held her both tightly and reassuringly as only he had ever managed to do, and gestured behind her with his other hand at the path they had both walked this day. "Look behind you, Prue. Look behind us."

She looked, and she saw no footprints. She looked, and she heard her sisters' crying. She could hear Leo murmuring too, some form of apology, of condolence, of.... Crying because he hadn't been able to save someone?

The world turned. The seaside winds rushed all over and around her, but through it all, Andy was still smiling patiently at her, still holding her hand. Tears pricked her eyes, but she could feel no sorrow. She felt a strange ache for her sisters, almost like she was sympathizing, but she was not sad. She was far from it. And as she heard voices singing, she found that whatever emotions she was feeling, to which she could not as of yet actually place a name, she was feeling steadily lighter, less stressed, than she had... than she had since she had been a little, innocent child herself.

She saw the birds again in the sky high above Andy's dark, smiling head. Only his head didn't look quite as dark anymore. And the birds no longer looked like birds. They looked like odd, long bolts of silky white cloth. Only the bolts of cloth were moving and singing. They were singing songs Prue vaguely recognized from her childhood, songs from the church she and Piper had attended with their grandmother when they'd been little. Why, she wondered, had Grams taken them to church when she herself had always been a Witch? But she had every Sunday until Prue had become too old for it, until their lives had become too busy to have time for such frivolous childhood fantasies.

Except she knew that magic and Demons, ghosts and Witches, and yes, even Angels, were very, very much real. If White Lighters could be the Angels to Witches, and Dark Lighters served the Demons in a similar capacity, did it not make sense then that there were other Angels? She gaped at the beings she saw floating high above them.

"Come home, Prue."

"Come home, darling."

She gasped aloud at the achingly familiar voices. That, she would think back later, was when her tears began in earnest, but they were happy ones. Andy was smiling at her, and he no longer stood alone. He did not even stand for his feet had left the shore entirely, and behind him, just a short distance away hovering in the air and gazing at her, calling her to join them, were both her mother and grandmother, the very women whose strength had fueled her lifetime journeys as she'd spent her life, the vast, vast majority of it, caring for her sisters.

"Your time's done, Prue," Andy spoke gently, his words seeming somehow to merge into the howling wind. "Your battle's over. It's time to come home."

She thought once more of Piper and of Phoebe, but somehow, she knew, this was no dream. There was a reason there were no footprints to show where she had walked to reach this shoreline. She could not reach her sisters again, not now, not until the Powers allowed. She could be angry. She could try to fight her way back. But she was free. For the first time since she was eight years old, she was free!

She gasped with elation and sprang forward, intending to run to Andy's open arms. Instead, her feet completely left the shore, and she found herself literally flying into his embrace. Her mother and grandmother were there, as were other members of her family. She was not alone; she was very far from it. She was free, and she was happy, and she was at peace at long last. A new song of jubilation was beginning all around her, and Prue heard an odd sound. She heard herself singing along, belting out lyrics she'd not heard since she'd been a child and not missing a single syllable.

She looked at Andy, who was also singing, and realized that, at long last, she had her happily ever after. Her life was over, her freedom earned. Her sisters would join her when their times were over, and not a moment before. At long last, there was only one thing she had to do, and that was to be herself. But there was something else she wanted to do, something she'd been yearning to do again for years. She tugged Andy to her, where they floated in the bright, blue sky with friends and family all around him, and kissed him. Maybe she'd not get to actually marry him, but she would spend the rest of eternity, happily and freely, with him.




The End