<div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/0/07/Charmed_helen_b.png)</div><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 18pt;">H</span><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 14pt;">ELEN</span> <span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 18pt;">B</span><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 14pt;">RIANNE</span> <span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 18pt;">M</span><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 14pt;">ITCHELL</span> <span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 7pt;"><br/>          it is in you to carry on      |      it is in you to lay down fears that hold      |     it is in you to find your way home          </span></span><br/><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial;"><em>now that was unexpected.</em><br/><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 8pt;">   » jacqueline </span></span><br/><hr/><br/>When Jack revealed that she believed in the supernatural, Brie felt- something. The feeling of the entire world slowing down, and slowing down even more, until everything was suspended and frozen in time, the only person who was moving and thinking and<em>feeling</em>being her. Of course, that didn't happen; Brie hadn't used her magic, she'd merely been bulldozed by the shock of hearing someone else outside of her family say something like<em>I do believe in the supernatural</em>.<br/><br/>Swallowing, Brie tried not to betray her surprise at the confession. The sentences following were somewhat of a blur to Brie - she drank down a third of her glass of cider as she nodded absently, trying to appear as if she were listening. The confession might be nothing - after all, people believe in ghosts and faeries and "destiny" but never had to come face to face with its tangible existence as a magical entity. On top of that, Jack had the beautiful, graceful lines in her face and her figure that bespoke of someone of mixed blood. If she were Chinese or Japanese, or even Korean, it was more than possible that her 'supernatural' was something ingrained in her culture and upbringing. Certainly, it was a sort of supernatural, but far different than demons and Whitelighters and magic in the way that Brie and her cousins often dealt with it.<br/><br/>Her curiosity as a child and as a witch had stood her in good stead; Brie made a point of seeking out knowledge that, while not immediately relevant to their lives as witches (and half-cupids, half-whitelighters, and half mortals), might one day be useful. How many times had she heard stories about the Titans and gods, and creatures straight out of pagan lore? Mythology and fairytales were powerful stuff.<br/><br/>All of those thoughts went through Brie's mind in a flash, and she forced herself out of her scattered, nervous mental litany to rejoin the conversation. She started again - it was rare that anyone could surprise her, and this was twice in the same night! - when Jack mentioned Sam Huang. Was that the same Sam Huang who owned the Chinese herb shop in Chinatown?<br/><br/>Knowing that she was dealing with more than just your average interesting cop, Brie minded her words, though she continued to maintain her air of casual, fun-loving ease.<strong>"Older relatives who know my thoughts before I speak them? There isn't anyone like that in my life. I have my brother, though. We're twins, and we're very different in mindset and passion, but we share a lot of our lives of our lives with each other."</strong>Brie wasn't much for dissembling, though, so even while she made sure not to say anything that could out her explicitly to Jack, she couldn't keep the gentle note of warmth from slipping into her smile and her eyes.<br/><br/><strong>"As for the other topic - you're right, I do think that such a discussion would be more appropriate at a different time, and in a more private venue."</strong>There was no way Brie was going to try to have a serious talk with anyone in P3. Sure, they could find an alcove and attempt a conversation that was less a shout and more a comfortable murmur, but unless they went outside (cold) or into one of the offices (isolated), they wouldn't be able to escape the heavy beats of P3's music. Brie doubted they would escape the music in either of those locations, and more to the point, neither was very private or conducive to a conversation that would make Brie feel comfortable divulging any of her knowledge about the supernatural.<br/><br/>The way Jack spoke, it was almost like... she<em>knew</em>who they were. Knew that they were the children of the Charmed Ones. What Brie wouldn't give to see Jack's expression when she'd seen and been introduced to Wyatt earlier that night. She counted herself a fair judge of people, and while Jack didn't set off any of her internal alarms, it seemed that she knew a lot more about them than any of them, Brie included, knew about her. Was she hinting that she was supernatural, too (or at the very least, had connections to someone who was)? Brie couldn't be sure. The lighting and noise just didn't make this kind of critical analysis of the slightest nuances of behavior possible.<br/><br/>Brie wanted to sigh. This whole night just seemed like it was pointing in the strangest direction, a new one that was taking them farther and farther away from the normal, peaceful lives that their parents had fought so hard to have. Signaling one of the bartenders over, Brie got another napkin and a refill on her glass. She paused just before putting pen to napkin - cell or studio? - and then scribbled her cell phone number in black ink onto the napkin.<br/><br/><strong>"Call me sometime tomorrow. I might not answer right away, but I'll call you back, and we can arrange to meet somewhere more private to talk about..."</strong>She hadn't noticed Jack reaching for her e-reader, but she certainly noticed when she looked at the e-reader, and saw a Greek letter.<br/><br/>It was naggingly familiar. She knew she'd seen it before, and not just from her sorority days.<em>Omega. The End.</em>The last letter of the Hellenic alphabet.<br/><br/>Brie shook her head as she felt the beginnings of a headache edge into her temples.<strong>"I recognize it, but... well, this probably isn't the place to talk about it."</strong>The Book of Shadows. That had to be where she'd seen it; she could vaguely recall flipping through the Book almost a year ago. It was a marking, a sign - or was it a tattoo?<em>Too long ago. I'll have to ask Wyatt if I can look at the book tonight or tomorrow.</em><br/><br/><strong>"I'm not in any hurry to leave, though. If you're up for more conversation and drinks, I'd be happy to stay here and keep you company all night. It's been quite some time since I've had the pleasure of long, leisurely talks about supernatural crimes with anyone,"</strong>the young witch remarked drily. Part of Brie wanted to try to figure out what that symbol was, but she decided that if she dwelled on it any longer, she might well end up giving herself a migraine over what was hopefully nothing. Wanting to shift the conversation back into less touch territory, Brie teased out the question that had come up earlier in her mind, when Jack had mentioned her family.<strong>"You mentioned that your uncle was Sam Huang, right? Is that the same Mr. Huang who owns the herb shop next to the fortune cookie factory in Chinatown? I used to go there with my mom a lot, when I was little, but I don't ever remember seeing you there..."</strong><br/><br/>From there, she let the conversation flow naturally. Eventually, talk of family to come back around to Brie's family.<strong>"Our dad had to raise us - my twin brother, my younger brother, and me - during our most rebellious years. I think he got something of a bargain, since none of us ever really acted out in spectacular fashion. I was probably the most trouble, though - mostly because I was out of the house so often, and he worried about me coming home so late at night from dance practice. I think raising me was hard on him sometimes. I've heard that I remind him a lot of my mother, in the way we act and think, and sometimes my voice, too."</strong><br/><br/>Of all the rest of the problems growing up, that had probably been the most difficult. Henry blamed magic for Paige's death, and even though Brie grew up with different interests, and more of his looks, and more of his temperament, Uncle Leo would sometimes nostalgically comment on how she was so similar to her mother in the more basic, subtle ways. Brie resented the comparison, not because she didn't love her mom (she did) or because she didn't want to be like her (she treasured those little things that they shared), but because she was so used to being an individual, free from the chains of trends and popularity, that any remark that she was<em>like</em>someone else irked. Even if it was her mom.<br/><br/>Brie said as much, to Jack.<strong>"Does that happen to you, getting compared to your parents? I mean, I don't deny that I act like my mom, especially in the choice of career I've made for myself, but I don't want others to look at me and see ghosts of my mother in me."</strong>