Manor, the following morning. Piper repots the ficus she blew up the night before while apologizing for dumping a bookcase on Prue’s head. Prue’s all “no harm done,” and reassures her sister that “the control will come.” Weekly summation time. While Piper is pleased that her newfound power rid them all of the Freak, she thinks “vanquishing one bad guy and losing three good guys isn’t exactly a winning score.” Prue’s relieved to discover that Piper still counts Cole among the good. What? Then what the hell was that last scene about? Christ, this show is going to give me a goddamn ulcer. Piper reveals that she now has a better understanding of Cole’s situation in the world. “Having something inside of you that you can’t control,” she explains. “That is capable of hurting the people you love, even if you don’t want it to.” Phoebe enters in her version of widow’s weeds: a subdued black long-sleeved shirt over loose white cotton trousers. She crosses to sit on the sofa and places three candles on the coffee table. Her sisters express concern for her well-being. “You have a lot to sort out,” Prue supposes. Phoebe demurs: “I lost my soul mate to evil. What’s there to sort out?” Ow. I hate that term. To an extent, she blames herself for Cole’s failure. “I wasn’t enough,” she breathes. Instead of whapping her upside the head for being so damned codependent, Prue and Piper gaze at her silently. Phoebe explains that the candles are for a blessing ritual. She thought it might be a nice idea to commemorate the innocents they lost. She strikes a match as Prue and Piper kneel at the table. “For Leeza,” Prue begins. For whom? Oh, the stupid blonde. “Our lost sister,” she continues, lighting the first of the candles. “May your spirit soar.” “For Jenna, our lost friend,” Piper, um, prays, I guess, as she takes the match from Prue. “May we meet again.” Piper lights the second candle. Phoebe accepts the match from Piper and concludes, “For Cole, a lost love.” She lights the remaining candle, then raises the lit match before her. “May he find peace.” She purses her lips and extinguishes the match with a single puff of air.
The Dolt brightly barges in on the proceedings. He quickly apologizes and turns to leave, but Phoebe invites him to stay, noting that the Ps could do with a bit of good news. Long story short, he submitted the fraudulent passport application, and is now the proud owner of an illegally-obtained government document. Piper’s delighted. The Dolt decided he’ll “do anything to get [Piper] on a plane to Paris.” Not so fast. In light of her new power, Piper’s changed her mind about the honeymoon. “I don’t want to sneeze at forty thousand feet and have a bunch of people explode.” I’d make a comment about a certain TWA flight from a couple of years ago, but the gentlemen responsible for Final Destination have already sucked that well of tastelessness dry. Piper crosses to her Dolt and plants a wet one on his lips. Prue beams, but the smile disappears when she takes in Phoebe’s expression. Yet again unlucky in love, Phoebe hangs her head to stare at her nails.