Disclaimer: I own nothing. Charmed and its characters belong to Constance M. Burge and Spelling Entertainment.

Spoilers: “Special Delivery” aka “The Day the Magic Died”

Author’s Note: This was written for Charmed Improv. My words were swan song, angelic, dance, forever. Much love and thanks go out to Necia, my wonderful, talented, beautiful beta reader, and to the fantabulous Tiny Stages, who created the new, beautiful dustjacket.

Piper Halliwell-Wyatt awoke with a start. She sat upright in bed and looked over at the clock. Three a.m. At first she wasn’t quite sure why she had woken up, then she realized how strangely quiet the house was. Her son wasn’t crying. Her son always cried at that hour. He had for the past two weeks. A chill ran through her bones. What if something was wrong? What if a demon had gotten him?

Working herself into a panic, she reached over to wake up her sleeping husband only to find that he, too, was gone. Now she was really scared. Leo Wyatt never orbed out, or left the bed for that matter, without letting her know where he was going. First, her baby didn’t cry, and now her husband was gone. What was going on?

As fear crept into her stomach, Piper crawled out of bed and tiptoed over to the nursery door. She poised her hands, ready to freeze or blow up anything that she needed to. When she reached the door, she stopped in surprise. The sound of a soft male voice chattering away floated in from the other side. She knew Leo’s voice from anywhere, and a feeling of relief swept over her.

Being as quiet as she could, she gently cracked opened the door and peeked inside. She smiled at the angelic sight that greeted her. There sat Leo in the rocking chair, feeding his baby son and calmly talking to him.

“That’s my boy. You’re a good eater. I guess you get that from your dad,” Leo cooed proudly as his son happily drank the milk. He continued as if the kid had answered him. “You know, there’s a lot you and I have in common. We’re both quiet thinkers. We only talk when we need to.” He lovingly stroked his son’s dark hair. “You look like your mom, though, and I’m very thankful for that. You’ve got her hair and eyes, but I think you’ve got my nose.” He continued to prattle on until all of the liquid in the bottle was gone.

When the boy was finished, Leo sat the bottle down on the table beside of him. He picked up the infant and stood up, preparing to take him back to bed. The minute he moved, though, baby Halliwell-Wyatt started to cry.

Piper put her hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle. Leo looked a little silly with a crying baby in his arms and a panicked look on his face. For a moment, it seemed like he didn’t quite know what to do.

“Shhh, it’s okay. I’m just putting you back to bed. Quiet. You’ll wake your mother,” Leo said as he hugged his son. He seemed to be searching for a way to calm his child when his blue eyes lit up with an idea. Slowly, he began to dance around the room and sing an off-key version of “Baby Mine” from Dumbo.

Piper’s breath caught in her throat. Here was her husband, her Whitelighter, standing in the middle of the room singing to his son. It was the most beautiful sight she had ever seen. Leo didn’t sing very loudly, but the song did carry across the room.

He had gotten halfway through the tune when he realized that his son was no longer crying. Instead, the infant was fast asleep with his head on Leo’s shoulder. Smiling, he slowly walked back over to the crib and gently laid the sleeping baby in it. He carefully covered him up and turned to go back to his own bedroom. He stopped when he saw a grinning Piper standing in the doorway.

“That was a lovely rendition,” she whispered, the smile still plastered on her face.

Leo shrugged. “Thanks.”

“Would you be up for singing another one?” she teased.

He chuckled. “No, I think that was my swan song for the evening.”

“That’s a shame. I might need a lullaby.” She wrapped her arms around him and gave him a nice, long kiss. “You know, it’s so quiet. I wish this moment could last forever.”

“Me, too.” He kissed her again. Without another word, he led her into their bedroom and quietly closed the door.


© 2003 Crimson Idealist