Disclaimer: All characters, concept, etc., are property of Spelling Television Inc, E. Duke Vincent, and the WB and are the fictitious works of the mind of Constance M. Burge. I own nothing. This is their world, I'm just playing in it.

A/N: Don't worry guys, all you P/L fans I mean. This'll get less morbid (not to mention mushy) as we go, so please stick with it. No flames please, though constructive criticism is welcome.

Chapter 1

"And so, another sister passes and joins the never ending circle that is life and death and their perfect union."

The high priestess's words didn't even register in Leo's mind as he watched her slowly perform her funeral ritual.

Phoebe's cries did reach his ears a few times. But they were usually muffled by Paige's. Or his own thoughts. He mostly left them both to comfort the other at the moment. He was in no condition.

He was somewhat aware of Cole patting his back when his wife's name was mentioned in the ceremony, most likely meaning it as a soothing gesture. An attempt at solace. He almost scoffed at the thought. What a ludicrous idea. Solace. That word had no meaning anymore. Not for him. He was doomed to live out eternity without it. He was beginning to understand why Sam had clipped his wings after Patty's death. Why the ocean floor was littered with the bones of mortals who had died for love, as Miley had said.

After Prue, he knew that they had all realized that death was a reality. They weren't immortal. Even Paige, who hadn't experienced her sister's loss, seemed to understand. And he had thought he did as well. He didn't realize that he had subconsciously convinced himself that it would never be Piper. Never. It couldn't be. It could never happen. Prue was different. His sister-in-law, whom, of course, he had mourned for, but it had never been like this.

Because it had happened.

It had happened to Piper, his Piper.

And it was different than Prue had been. Because she was never his. Piper was. She had been his lover, his friend, his wife, his soul mate. And now she was gone. And she had taken his other half along with her.

Again, voices filtered into his thoughts. This time, those of concerned friends, acquaintances, people that had known Piper, or thought they had known her well enough for their presence to be required at her funeral.

He heard the comforting platitudes everyone was supposed to say.

Some woman's voice, probably directed at Phoebe: "I'm so sorry, honey."

Sorry. Yes, that was it. He was sorry. So sorry.

"I'm so sorry, sweetheart."

He apologized even if she couldn't hear him.

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