Faithfully Yours Part 8: I'm always true to you darling in my fashion..   Chapter 71 "The good ended happily, and the bad unhappily. That is what Fiction means."   Oscar Wilde

Francesca put down her book and leant back against the very comfortable pillows that were provided by the host of her small Florence pensione. He had been quite surprised and pleased when she had returned again asking for a room with view over the river that morning, but she felt she deserved her hideaway.

Francesca had finally escaped Therold's housewarming, although it had not been as bad as she feared. She had gently guided Phoebe from her worst instincts to play to Therold's worship, protected the truly sensitive ghost of the nun from the worst of Piper's bluntness and actually enjoying a conversation with the Buddhist priest and Leo on the religious significance of ritual. Proctor had for reasons best known to himself intervened between the mystics and the Oxford professor when their passions had become volatile, to the amusement of the other guests. One of the mystics had then sat at Therold's reasonably new piano that replaced the one Cole destroyed and another produced a violin. They played their own version of some well known songs and Mark and Paige had been able to escape into their own little world dancing. Leo had become very involved in a discussion with the historians so Piper relieved Francesca of some responsibility for Phoebe by making her dance. Francesca had watched them rathe enviously when Proctor a dark smile on his face asked her to dance. She remembered in time that Proctor had asked her to dance at Cole and Phoebe's wedding. She wondered if he found it an excuse when socialising became hard work so having some sympathy or him, she agreed, besides Francesca liked to dance and rarely got asked. So altogether the party could have been worse but it was not without some relief, that Francesca had agreed to take Phoebe home, before Therold became to maudlin over her charms, after an extra glass of his zesty punch.

Before she could breathe a sigh of relief after depositing Phoebe at the Manor however, Francesca had then been called to a tedious and at times frightening session with the Powers that Be of good and the Great Ones of magic.

So she felt fully justified in returning to Firenze where she had had an afternoon, indulging herself with Phoebe's book, a glass or two of excellent Italian red wine and far too many Belgian chocolates. Not so much however that her indulgence was any thing more than a pleasant escape from the forces of magic that dominated her existence and the dramas of the 'up there' world of panicked and pedantic elders. They were now indulging themselves in mea culpa and some genuine examination of their choices in the face of damnation of justice.

It had taken angelic restraint of the highest order, for Francesca not to give way to her anger over the Powers that Be's refusals to listen to her advice and retort bitterly about their confusion over the purpose of war and justice of it. Instead she had angelically offered her voice as one of the Great One's of magic, tendering understanding and support as many of her colleagues faced some hard facts about where they had been led. Francesca had refrained from sarcastically asking why they could not listen to her before when now they were offering a deference which she found offensive. She firmly and calmly led those who faced their own consequences to consider and analyse their uncritical response to leaders and advisors and left them pondering safeguards and reflecting on their actions.

The whole effort left her exhausted and disgruntled so an indulgence in fantasy was the best advice she could give herself. A reasonable indulgence in a very sexy and amusing bodice ripper set in Ireland had restored her humour and  an edition of a lesser know Jane Austen books waited her attention. She had discarded a lurid novel set in the Napoleonic area. She had thought it would be amusing but she discovered there was no satisfaction in some-one's else's fantasy about your own reality, an observation she mentally filed as one which may have it uses in another time and place.

It was late in the evening now, a pleasant warm darkness was starting to envelope Firenze. After spending a little time indulging herself with the magnificent view of the river from her window, Francesca picked up a bag and her sketchbook to spend a quiet, and she admitted lonely evening, observing the reality of life in the city.

She found her way to a small and ancient piazza, where after ordering a meal she could sit at a corner seat in an outdoor ristarante and watch the other diners hide the fact that she was alone behind her sketch book. After a while Francesca put her sketch book down and contented herself watching the small life of the piazza, with its cafes and the fountain that had not been there in the time she lived in the city. There was a band playing but she did not hear it. She was seeing the place from another time and place.

In this place Francesca had memories of love and being loved. She had dealt with small mortal problems, and life and death. Sitting here in the place she had found the only love she had had, for despite what others thought of her romance, she called it love, truly she treasured that life. Even if it had not been the passion and pain, and emotional connection, that great lovers often had. She knew that passion was not for her and swallowed down a small bitter regret, and jealousy that she would never feel that passion lovers like Cole and Phoebe had, or Arturo and Marie-Jeanne. Then she thought of Cole prepared to destroy anything in his path to keep his love and she remembered such passions, such raw emotions were very dangerous things.

When Francesca considered the problems those lovers caused perhaps better to keep her fantasies and pleasure and passion to reading Phoebe’s books. Better Francesca be the sensible angel that she was and stay away form such things. She carefully squashed down the memories of the one passion she has indulged, the one that was supposed to keep her going for a life time, her Waterloo. Not the least because as she would only regretfully admit to herself what she had discovered was that passion without love was a futile waste. Much better, Francesca told herself, to stay away from passion and then she cursed as the shift on the spirit winds announced the arrival of the guardian Proctor.

The expression on Francesca's mortal face was quite peeved. She only just remembered she was an angel and must not damn Proctor for his accursed watching, for what he knew and what he did not tell.

“Well met Francesca” said Proctor, a certain demonic smile on his face as he loomed over her like a dark shadow.

“Is it?” she asked her irritation showing before accepting her role as his guide. “How can I assist you?”

“Merely in the vicinity and I wanted assure myself you are aware of all the complications of recent events that I have observed“ Proctor said seating himself beside her unasked. To Francesca's annoyance the waiter who had been quite condescending to her single status, became effusive as he took Proctor's order.

"I am aware" she replied a little shortly as he ordered red wine from the waiter for both of them.

"Ah then my visit was unnecessary" Proctor replied "You seem drawn to Firenze lately. I have observed“ he added.

"I wish you would observe me less” Francesca told him tartly.

Proctor smiled demonically and then a dark pain crossed his eyes and Francesca almost pushed down an unwelcome burst of sympathy for him

“I see what I see”, he said his voice with a rasp to it "I see that which must be revealed to me” he added “I see more than I want to see, sometimes” he said "it is my penance and I accept it but understand I do not want .. to see what I see, the darkest places and the passion. To see such things is to know more than I want to know,” he said, his voice as dark as his soul "But I must…know it."

Francesca looked into his dark pained eyes and for a second she half raised her hand in his direction as she saw the agony of the things that he saw and then she caught herself and stopped. As he observed this his smile became satanic.

"Mistress Belthezor was fortunate that the soul of Belthezor she shared in Burvjara has more light than any other demon who has crossed, except perhaps for the guardian Hilma. Had she shared the darkness of…my soul I doubt she could have survived" Proctor said.

"Could you be what you are, see what you see and survive if your soul was not dark?" Francesca asked gently.

"No" Proctor said "Only a soul as dark as mine could face the evil I see, but there are times when I …envy Belthezor the light in his soul that allows his love to walk beside him for as long as he needs her."

"Yes but that light nearly lost Cole." said Francesca. "Because he came close to acting on his own reality without seeing how his reality was connected to the greater realm and nearly damning the consequences.

"Yes" said Proctor "Thank god the Burvjarian stoped Belthezor, talked Belthezor from his madness."

"Is loving someone madness?" Francesca asked.

“I sometimes think so" Proctor said darkly "You know you are not responsible for Burvjara."

"Any more than I would have been responsible if such a thing occurred in this realm because I simply did not have the power to stop Therold or Cole from acting on their impulses and fantasies" Francesca said, not missing the connection he was making. "I know that. Thank god for Ashina Glock. And thank for Guardian Proctor as I understand it" She smiled at him and he lowered his eyes slightly.

"We held the moment" Proctor agreed inclining his head "but the real truth is that the realm was saved by both Therold and Belthezor recognising the danger and acting… reluctantly on their better natures."

"Which is the difference between those ones who can control the power and those whom the power controls." Francesca said. She laughed the golden laugh and Proctor looked up and then away so she could not see his eyes. "I wish there was a way of knowing the weak from the strong other than testing them." she said.

Francesca stopped talking as the waiter brought them both a glass of wine.

Proctor raised his glass to her "I share your wish" he said darkly. He observed the piazza and its many visitors "You come to this café often" he said abruptly changing the subject.

“I come to this piazza often "Francesca agreed "I met my husband here” she explained “I started my small mortal family life here” she explained.

“Your marriage was before I crossed” Proctor said “ I… observed little of it.”

"And Arturo never told you?” Francesca said.

“He told me a little” Proctor agreed.

Francesca lifted her glass bit did not drink she smiled to herself. "I was sitting here, watching the mortal world enjoy their lives, trying not to ponder on the things of greater magic that were disturbing me, much as I do today" she said "I recall a rather crude gentleman made himself a nuisance. Before I could do anything Giovanni came to my rescue."

“A true hero” said Proctor dryly.

“No" said Francesca smiling, "Giovanni was drunk and could barely swing a fist, so he was knocked flat before he could rescue me. I rescued myself and cared for him."

“So Arturo told me,“ Proctor replied carefully “Not a hero.

"A kind man” Francesca said defensively “and by caring for him I earned a very small life from him, a happy life a family. Cole is lucky with the family life he now leads, because I know how much he will need the memory to … bear the future” she said.

“I believe he understands that" Proctor told her “You never wished for the great passion” with an intensity that surprised Francesca.

"I do not understand the great passion” Francesca said “To many, Firenze is a city of romance and passion. I found love in Firenze some centuries ago however the reality I lived was far from passion.  But it is a reality the memory of which supports me through many …difficulties." She met Proctor's dark expression. "Yet as I sit here and remember it now, that reality is my fantasy. And I cannot tell the difference between my fantasy and my reality.”

“Can’t you?” Proctor asked. "I have observed many have the same problem with all things to do with love and passion and romance" he said "Observe the romance between Belthezor and his witch. It will be the stuff of fantasies and legend for generations to come. However if what I have seen in the past is any estimation, as has happened with other legends, those who tell tales of the romance will be accused of fantasising about something that is not real."

"The great passion is real, just not for many. Is it only real because I experience it or real because I know of it? I hate conundrums" Francesca said. "You ask me if I ever wished for passion" She said staring into her wine glass.

"I did" Proctor replied his voice harsh.

"Truthfully I did once dream of passion, when I was but a mortal girl' Francesca confessed "I was beautiful then" she smiled "you know my history. If I had stayed that girl, if that pox had not destroyed my looks, if the stone had not been not thrown to destroy me" and for a second she showed him her real face, the broken ugly one, the one that she wore as a badge of her hard life, "I may have known passion" she said returning to the face she wore from an age that was frightened of the consequences of disease and ignorance, of life.

"Would that girl be Francesca?" Proctor asked softly, holding hard to his glass as if he was restraining reaching for her.

"No" Francesca said “She would be someone alien to me."

"And yet alien or not, she had Francesca's soul which has never been reborn," Proctor said.

Francesca narrowed her eyes and glanced around the piazza. Some of the crowd were becoming quite rowdy as the heady scent of the city of Firenze, and fellowship and romance invaded the evening.

Francesca watched the couples enjoying the night and Proctor watched her. Finally she turned to him "Perhaps that girl is alien to me because I firmly refuse to know her" she admitted.

"It is my belief she will be worth the knowing" Proctor smiled satanically and raised his glass to her. Francesca met his eyes uncomfortably and looked away. She glanced back and for split second saw a light that was not demonic in his eyes. She swallowed hard, stopped herself looking away then raised her glass to him.

………………………………………………………………

Phoebe lay awake staring at the ceiling and thinking. Therold's party had certainly been different but she had been deeply conscious of being alone, being just Phoebe and not part of Phoebe and Cole, and she had discovered that was not much fun.

She was aware that Cole was now awake and looking at her. "Can't sleep. Thinking about Therold?" he asked only half joking.

"Just thinking" she told him quietly.

"What are about?" he pushed.

"You" she said honestly and reached her hand to his.

"Oh" Cole said "Good."

"Burvjara" she said.

"Not so good" he said.

"I can't help it" she explained. "It was.. I keep almost living it again and again. I wish I never went there." Phoebe bit her lip and turned away.

Cole took a deep breath and stroked the hand she had given him. "Baby are ever going to tell me why you … wish you never went , what it was I did "

"It was the magic there." Phoebe suddenly sat up and pulled her hand free. "I .." she said.  "I should have listened to Therold and not gone" she said hugging her knees.

"I know you hate being a heroine, being seen as a heroine but that was the best of you" he said turning on his side to watch her carefully. "And whatever Therold was told about what happened, you and I know I did nothing to hurt you."

"You saved me" she smiled at him wistfully. "You're my hero." She said "It wasn't what you did … not in Burvjara anyway".

"Any time you need a hero" Cole whispered "Every time you need a hero." He pursed his lips then reached for her "What's wrong Phoebe?' he asked softly.

She was silent.

"Phoebe?" he said pulling her closer. "We haven't quite got there yet have we?" he asked  "If Therold is ready to damn me for what happened in Burvjara, and I keep getting a sense of you being scared …of me or something about me and its freaking me."

“Cole, I'm not scared of you, except”   she took a deep breath. “I you need to know. The pole in Burvjara" she said "it magnified everything. Magic my magic yours… I connected Cole. I felt justice. I felt what it was like to … administer it. I felt what you felt" she said the pain and fear making her voice hoarse "and I'm a witch, I was meant for small magic in this realm. I was never meant to feel or know things like that."

Cole took a deep breath and shuddered "I'm sorry" he said inadequately.

"I ... felt most of what you felt when you came after the elders.” She caught his sharp intake of breath. "I mean everything. Not just the surface stuff. The way you knew they had made their choices to be… do the wrong thing. Justice, how terrible it really is. The demonic core. What it feels like to have the power and not live by it. How much you regret what you have to do. How much you know you must do it. And the cost if you don't. Everything" she whispered.

“Oh hell” he said sitting up and staring straight ahead.

"Yeah "she said "I … I guess now if I start bitching about what you do.. you can know its not because I don't know what you do.. it's because I do." Phoebe's voice cracked "I'm only a witch Cole. I didn’t need to know that.”

"No" he said “No-one needs to know that. Baby" he whispered "I'm so sorry. So very sorry."

"Its not your fault "She took a shuddering breath and half reached for him. "Remember back when you connected our auras" she said "I know you can't lie to me and I know some stuff you feel. You gave me the gift of knowing."

"You said you could handle the dark stuff" he said "knowing about it, and I made sure never to…. to merge, just join. I would never want you to…Phoebe I never imagined you would end up…feeling.." he broke off.

"Baby you never asked me whether I wanted until after you did it" She said gently "and damn it if I'd known what I know now.. I would have…

"Would have what?" he asked carefully.

"Trusted you I guess" she said with a weepy smile.

"That's not what you said at the time" he told her, then turned and pulled her close.

“I joined with your soul in Burvjara" she whispered as he held her" and it frightened the hell out of me and I'll never be the same." She moved against him cuddling close to him "How can you stand it?" she asked. "I love you and knowing what you have to be" she cried "How can you stand it" she pleaded. "I hate you have to stand it."

"Because I have to" he said softly, lying back staring at the ceiling and taking her with him, curled against him "I have you. You know I'm not lying when I say I need you."

"I know" She put her arms tightly around him. "Justice is a bitch" she said inadequately.

"Tell me about it" he said.

"It’s a nightmare" she said. "What you live, what you must bear."

"Justice can be" he agreed "It's when you face who you are."

"That's one of the things I love about you" she told him her voice breaking with emotion "You face who you a re and you don't need justice to make you do it. Trust me when I say how rare that is." She ran her hand down his face resting her finger on his mouth. "You do it because other people can't" She took a deep breath "part of what you is the demon who gets the thrill out of battle. I know" she added.

"I wish you didn't" he whispered. He shook his head "I don't really want to talk about it" he said slowly "When I do that,  baby" he started to say awkwardly. "Honest to god I'm telling the truth when I say I don't want to talk about it even think about it."

"Believe me baby when I say I understand now, after Burvjara when you don't want to talk about that stuff, when you don't want to think about it.  Only" she said intently "when you're being my hero, it's pretty damned amazing what you can do, with a sword" she said "even when it looks like a legal briefcase. The witches thought avenging justice was pretty sexy" she told him'

He laughed slightly then nodded "I still don't want to talk about it."

"I trust you" Phoebe said. She had turned over and he lay beside her while she restlessly wriggled feeling the weight of Pookie and the weight of the last few weeks.

"I'm not frightened of who you are" she said "I'm terrified of what you have to feel to bear to be who you are. I love who you are. I just want to.." she said.

"I know baby" he told her holding her close. They lay together, Phoebe with her back to him curled against him, while he gently stroked her. Sometime later he whispered to her "I feel other things too Phoebe" he said. "Things that aren't demonic or dark."

Lying in his arms she half cried "I wish you'd been feeling those in Burvjara".

He was silent for a few seconds.

"What you thinking?" Phoebe asked a little unnerved.

Cole muttered into her shoulder "shh. be still"."

"I want"  she said

''Shh" he told her.

She wriggled little and he put a leg across her forcing her to be still. He stroked her stomach, his hand running across Pookie and very slowly she started to relax. His breath was against her shoulder and she tried to talk but he shushed her

Finally Phoebe whispered again "What are you feeling?"

"I thought knowing what I feel freaked you" he said softly.

"Different when I ask" she sighed but then shuddered a little fearfully

"Thinking how contrary you are" Cole said "Stop being frightened of what I think Phoebe" he  aid In an odd whisper and she knew he was smiling.

She tried to turn to face him but he would not let her so she pouted instead while he ignored her mood, just stroking her gently. Against her will she relaxed against him.

"What are feeling?" she demanded.

He took a deep breath, she felt it on her shoulder. "You really want to know?" he asked.

“Yes "she pouted.

"Can you stand it?" he asked softly.

"Don't know" she said truthfully then she felt the heat in his body as his magic connected with her aura and then she shuddered and went rigid and then she gasped, "Oh" she said

"Shh" he told her

“I" she said

"Shh" he told her his hand gently against her pulling her close to him.

"Shh" he murmured and she took a deep breath and could feel his on her shoulder. Slowly she relaxed and breathed in time with his, lying there feeling what he felt, knowing just what he knew.

And he was not feeling concern for her capriciousness, or fear of long paths ahead or family or even children. He was lying there locked in the scent of her and the feel of her and just happy, happy being there with her, not questioning her foibles, her imperfections, just simply totally happy to be with her. Feeling all he needed to be happy was to be with her.

"Shh" her murmured as she went to say something.

……………………………………………………………..

Phoebe was sitting in her office, knowing she really had to do some work and finding no inspiration whatsoever. She was avoiding writing anything by trying to work out how she would be able to reach her keyboard over Pookie in a few months and listening to music. A local channel had decided to play some Cole Porter. Of recent times Phoebe listened to his music, firstly because she liked his name and later because she liked the complexity.

Phoebe gave instructions to Cheryl, her assistant, for the third time that she was not to be disturbed, then ignoring Cheryl rolling her eyes, she sat down to write answers to several letters. She flipped through the letters, reading carefully and nothing happened. No inspiration. No compassion.

It seemed that every letter, email and message sent to Ask Phoebe was about someone whose relationship had been screwed up recently, and most likely as Phoebe knew inspired by spites.  She wondered if guilt was totally drying up her inspiration or more likely her muse Melody was absent as a result of spites.

So instead of good constructive and worth while advice to her readers Phoebe pondered the spite dramas and Burvjarian wars of the last weeks and what were the consequences to her life and to the lives of those around her. She thought of all the things they had all had been forced to face. She thought of war, love and honour and fidelity and the promises that had been broken and the few that had been kept and the best conclusion that she could draw was that life was very complicated and psychology degree or not she could not really understand it. Then she decided this was a good thing because the things she did understand, such as the future she and Cole faced and the dangers of evil, frightened the hell out of her.

Phoebe decided pondering the incomprehensible was not productive and finally made a supreme effort to work and picked up a hand written letter from some-one signing himself ‘Ted’

What caught her attention was that the letter started by saying that his wife had left him a month go. And Phoebe's eyes lit up. Pre spite. Then ‘Ted’ spent pages talking about how devastated he was. Phoebe flicked to the last page at the last line that “Ted” admitted his wife had left him for a woman.

Phoebe sighing started to look for the last letter she had written explaining a person's sexuality was not always a choice. When she noticed on one page that 'Ted' wrote that it was hard to bear the false sympathy and the mock bonhomie about threesomes that were whispered around him.

"That male fantasy" thought Phoebe turning up her nose.

But what was killing 'Ted' was not that his wife had left him for another woman, it was that his wife had left him for another person.

"That's what hurts, is eating me up" 'Ted' wrote "She promised she would be faithful to me.  And then she says I love you but I've found some-one who is more attractive than you and I screwed them and I have to tell you, to be honest to you as if the fact that it was a woman makes it okay. She does not seem to think leaving me for a woman is being unfaithful. She thinks its caring about me. She cares about me to much to live a lie she says. But it does not matter it was someone of a different gender. What matters is that it was someone. As part of our marriage vows, as a contract between us through the good stuff and the bad. While we were married she promised she would be faithful.

"She didn't tell me she had discovered she was a lesbian and wanted to end the marriage, she didn't tell me she was no longer attracted to me and ask whether a marriage could exist.  When she decided she was a lesbian, she didn't end the marriage she found some-one else and screwed them" he wrote bitterly. "and being faithful isn't just a matter of sexual orientation it’s a matter of …honour , it’s a vow and a promise. She broke a promise.  And she did it telling herself and me she loved me."

Phoebe reread the letter, and started to type "What is being faithful?" when an old Cole Porter song began to play and she smiled and listened to the lyrics.

 "I'll always be true to you darling in my fashion, I'll always be true to you darling in my way."

Almost of their own accord her fingers found the article she had been writing about fidelity before the whole cursed spite thing and started to add notes to it.

“What is being unfaithful?” Phoebe wrote.

Phoebe thought of Piper and Leo and how much work that was going to take to mend their relationship, even though Piper had never been physically unfaithful to Leo and what is more would never have considered it. Any more than Leo would have. And yet Piper had loved elsewhere because she felt Leo had been unfaithful. Piper thought that Leo had broken the faith because he failed her when she was most vulnerable.

"We trust partners, we take them on faith often unspoken, to care for us, to protect us from ourselves and those who would hurt us and understand our imperfections." Phoebe wrote "And most of us mean to keep the vow when we make it, yet none of us know how we will change and who we will become and truthfully it is a trust that can be broken because our partners are simply unprepared or unable to live up to the expectations we put on them as we change. Because we become a different person to the one they made the vow too.

We promise our partners they can trust us to be faithful with our bodies but it is the heart which is more easily broken and by far the hardest one to forgive."

Was being faithful to someone the ability to forgive them even when they broke your heart, Phoebe wondered, like Piper had done for Leo and Leo had done for Piper?.

"Is it the strain of life together, dealing constantly with the mundane, the familiar, each other’s weaknesses and foibles that makes someone look outside the relationship, look for a time where they could be worshipped and treasured." Phoebe wrote "Or is it because when you fall in love, and recognise that love is real you let certain fantasies and dreams go because when its real you can't have everything.

“Only” she continued writing “What we sometimes forget is that somewhere in those fantasies and dreams is an expression of who we are and to completely lose those fantasies means we lose who we are.”

"What is being faithful?" Phoebe asked out loud. “Is being faithful not screwing some-one else, or not being attracted to someone else?”

Phoebe thought of Paige and how much she loved Mark and her fascination for the perfect body because clearly Mark lacked one. Mark may have understood that it was spite amped magic but was clearly still hurt Paige looked at something else, even pictures to fulfil what he clearly could not. Was Paige breaking faith or merely indulging a fantasy?

Phoebe thought of the pain her father was suffering because of Margaret chasing Cole, fantasising about him, when Cole was absolutely stupefied at the idea he could be interested her. Not that Phoebe was going to admit she understood that. Yet Victor after claiming to be shattered by Margaret's betrayal, was already clearly moving on. He was supposed to be faithful to her and yet Margaret's betrayal was enough to break all bonds. Even though there were those who would argue the marriage was not yet ended. 

Phoebe thought of the women around her at work so quick to chase after the fantasy man and breaking their marriages apart. She thought of the misery of those chasing John Cotton. Phoebe shuddered when she thought what that would to their marriages and relationships Then she thought of them complaining and the dissatisfaction about which they had talked in those marriages. Was the bond broken already and the fantasies they chased just a response to betrayal?

 Phoebe didn't know. It was all to complex.

Phoebe thought of Therold and his need for a madonna to worship and just how faithful he was to his unrequited love. A fidelity not remotely appreciated by his love’s true love. Phoebe concluded sadly that making her a fantasy woman was not conducive to his well being. Therold had had his house destroyed because of her and he was still faithful.  She frowned. Maybe she ought to .. not encourage him quite so much… not bask in his admiration to much. Not break his heart but maybe.. well just not encourage him… so much for his sake.

Is being kind to some-one who loves you being unfaithful? she wondered. She thought of just how jealous Cole was of Therold's passion for her, even though he knew she was just being kind to Therold

Phoebe giggled to herself "Being kind to Therold and being a bit of a bitch to everyone too" Cole should understand that. He loved her for who she was.

Phoebe finally asked herself the question that frightened her. Had she been unfaithful to Cole? She had not physically been unfaithful because each time no matter how spite amped her fantasy had been, she had come to her senses. She loved Cole and more than that cared for him and cared how much he could be hurt. And because he loved her and knew her he had not been more than seriously annoyed with her about it, accepted her fantasising because she was who she was.

Nor had he responded to all those woman fantasying over him. Phoebe sighed thinking to herself, god knows Cole was a girl's fantasy. She had ample proof in the last weeks just how many other women had fanaticised about him and were willing to see how far they could go. Police women, the butch woman at the gas station, Nosey Mrs Taylor, Anne, Margaret . Phoebe shuddered as she thought of Margaret. A.

Phoebe decided most definitely that chasing fantasies, as opposed to chasing dreams was a very BAD thing, because fantasies NEVER translated into the real thing. "But then there was Noni and her superman." How would that go when reality hit that fantasy, Phoebe wondered.

The words of the song rang in her head. “I'm always true to you darling in my fashion. I'm always true to you darling in my way."

So complex she thought and no real answer.

Except for Cole, as she had found when he shared his soul, it was not complex. He had been faithful to her physically, emotionally, since the day he told her he loved her. Not even the power of Source, women throwing themselves at his head, or the long separation they had had when he really doubted she would ever love him again had made him unfaithful.

So very simple for him she had discovered when he let her share the deepest places in his soul his soul for those few moments. Because the one constant was that Cole really loved her for being Phoebe and he was faithful to her in any sense of the word. He wanted her and he wanted the baggage that came with her.

In the morning he had smiled but refused to discuss what he had done and certainly was not prepared no matter how much she sulked to let her back completely inside his soul again. But it did not matter because he had shared with her how much he loved her, with no obligation and no responsibility. Phoebe had shared his soul. For all the long years ahead, there were no doubts for her. She knew.

He would trust her no matter how she behaved and forgive her anything.

Phoebe pushed back a tear. She also knew by Cole’s definition she was faithful. Then she recognised with a flash of maybe premonition inspired insight the only way she could be unfaithful to him.

Always with her it came down to both her and Cole facing the terrible future he must face and her promise that she would be with him, that she would walk with him no matter how hard his journey.

Phoebe admitted to herself that she was frightened of the future. The word heroine terrified her. The way witches reacted to her, the way Therold worshipped her. That was not her Phoebe, it was someone else some mythical character that she was not. She was… she was Phoebe and she was not really sure how she had the wisdom to be that person they all saw. But because she was Phoebe she knew there was no force in the realms that could stop her being with Cole no matter what their future held. She would walk with him, and be true to her promise and him.

Phoebe took a deep hard inspired breath.

Was that what fidelity was about? A test of courage to face the darkest part of your own nature. Was real definition of fidelity being true to yourself. Like Cole was.

She shivered hard. Because she knew why the idea of fidelity was so complex and so simple. Like Cole did.

Phoebe picked up Ted's letter and began to type carefully explaining that the problem with fidelity was it connected to the way we love. And without being inside the head of the one who loved you it was impossible to understand that actions that seemed hurtful to you, but for them may be an expression of that love and fidelity.

“Because non of us are really prepared for the future of who we are and what we will become, most of us will fail, be unfaithful to our partner’s ideal at some time. All you can do is love them trust them and forgive them.” Phoebe wrote “I am sorry for your pain” she told Ted. ”But if someone cares enough about you not to live a lie to you, sometimes you have to accept that as an act of fidelity.”

Phoebe hit the submit button then sang the chorus of the song out loud.

“I'm always true to you darling in my fashion. I'm always true to you darling in my way.

THE END

Ordinary riches can be stolen; real riches cannot. In your soul are infinitely precious things that cannot be taken from you.

 Oscar Wilde.

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