Chris orbed onto the top of the Golden Gate Bridge. Tightly clasped in his hand was the ratty old backpack containing the few meagre belongings he'd been able to bring with him to the past. His breathing was erratic and he was only just managing to hold back tears of rage and grief. He could hardly believe what had just happened. Well, he could actually. Piper had decided she didn't want him around anymore and had banned him from the Manor and kicked him out of P3. That was nothing news. Chris knew that Piper had never liked him because he took some of the glory away from her precious Wyatt. That was okay, though. Chris had never liked Piper, either; now or when he was a kid.
He had hoped that his mother would stand up for him, though but had ended up being severely disappointed. The sight of his mother standing alongside her sisters and looking at him as though he were something she'd scrapped off the bottom of her shoe had broken Chris. Aside from his father – Chris' best friend and hero – mom had always been his biggest supporter.
'Not mom yet' he forced himself to remember. Mom was the woman who'd tucked him in at night, read him stories and picked him up from school each afternoon. The woman who'd been so cruel to him today had no idea that she would ever be anyone's mother, let alone mother of the whitelighter that annoyed her so much. It was hard but Chris couldn't hold it against her.
He tried not to let himself think about it too much at the moment, though because right now he had many more important things to focus on. Getting kicked out of P3 had left him in a huge mess. Getting banned from the Manor wasn't so bad – he was much more powerful than Leo, Wyatt or any of the sisters so he could just sneak in and out undetected whenever he wanted to use the Book of Shadows – but getting kicked out of P3 was a huge problem. He'd really been relying on the club as a roof over his head. What little money he'd been able to scrape together before coming to the past was so he could eat. It wouldn't last much longer if he had to pay for accommodation as well.
"Bloody Piper," he growled under his breath, desperate for someone to blame for his predicament even if it was mostly his own fault.
He'd been so very, very stupid. The sisters had been needling him and needling him, nagging him to tell them why he was really in the past. For a moment he'd remembered the loving, supportive mother from his childhood and had thought that maybe, just maybe, if he told the truth about what happened to Wyatt the sisters would stop being so horrible to him and they could figure this out together. He'd been wrong, though. Quite the opposite had happened and now he was completely alone in this godforsaken time.
That wasn't too much of a problem in itself – he'd grown used to solitude since coming to the past – but he should have foreseen something like this happening. He should have known that they would never accept that Wyatt was evil, worse than any dictator in mortal history. After all, right now Wyatt was their precious, perfect angel; the light of all their lives and he, Chris, was not a member of their family. It didn't change anything, though. Chris would still save Wyatt. He had to. There was no other option.
Wyatt had now performed so many dark spells and rituals that he was by far the most powerful being in the universe, and that wasn't even taking into account the dark army he had behind him, so there was no stopping him in the future Chris had come from. Saving Wyatt in this time was the only way that the war was ever going to end. The only difference was that now Chris would have to do it alone; not that Leo and the sisters had been helping much anyway. Chris would just have to keep doing what he was doing and hope that sometime soon he struck it lucky.
Time travel was a finicky thing so there was no way to know for sure but according to the research the resistance had carried out before Chris came back in time as soon as he killed the right demon – the one that had turned Wyatt evil in the first place – the future would change and he would be automatically pulled back to the time in which he truly belonged. Chris hoped that that happened sooner rather than later, preferably before he ran out of money for food. It was bad enough that he didn't have any shelter. He wasn't sure he'd survive if he couldn't eat, either.
Unless…. "NO!" he told himself. That wasn't a good idea.
In the long months he'd been in the past Chris had so far avoided seeking out his father. It wasn't because he didn't love him. Quite the opposite was true, actually – there was nobody in the world Chris loved more than his father. The reason he hadn't sought him out was because, unlike his mother, his father would recognize him straight away and start asking questions that Chris couldn't answer. Then again it was all a moot point now, he realised. Even if they didn't believe him the sisters knew the truth now and would inevitably be telling Leo in the near future so there was no reason that his father couldn't know as well. And dad had no attachment to Wyatt so would believe and support him. Dad had also always understood the importance of occasionally keeping a secret far better than mom ever had so if there was something Chris wasn't comfortable discussing dad probably wouldn't push.
The lure of having an ally, of having someone on his side in this mess, was almost too powerful for Chris to resist and he nearly orbed straight off to his childhood home to confront his father but he forced himself to take his time and think about this rationally. Did the benefits of letting dad in on the secret really outweigh the risks? 'Future Consequences' was something that was drilled into every magical being to remember whenever they were time travelling. The consequences of too much changing could be catastrophic and Chris figured that the more people who knew about the future the bigger risk there was of something changing not for the better.
Did Chris really think telling his father was worth risking messing up the future even more than it already was? Yes, he concluded. After months of facing battles on every front Chris was in dire need of a friendly face and he really didn't want to be reduced to sleeping on a park bench somewhere, especially this close to Christmas when it was cold at night. Besides, as far as Chris was concerned, dad was much more trustworthy than his mother and aunts so there was less of a risk of him doing something stupid than the Charmed Ones.
His decision made he orbed off the bridge, bound for his childhood home. He remateralised in the kitchen area of the open plan kitchen/dining/living area. In the living room he could see his father down on his hands and knees, picking up a mess of toy trains. Chris swallowed a lump in his throat. Some of his earliest memories comprised of spending every night after dinner playing with his train set. The thing had been bloody massive, taking up most of the living room, zigzagging under and around all the furniture, covering nearly every surface.
Chris was embarrassed to feel himself tearing up. He wouldn't change his mother or sister for anything but sometimes he really missed those easier, simpler days when it had just been him and dad. He cleared his throat. "Um, hi," he said awkwardly.
His father was on his feet immediately, energy ball in hand. Chris froze, knowing that he couldn't move. This was the moment of truth. He was about to find out for sure whether or not he'd done the right thing coming here. His father came closer to him and then, just as suddenly as he'd summoned it, vanished the energy ball. The older man studied him intently. "Chris?" he finally asked.
Chris nodded, not objecting when his father pulled him into a hug. He was safe. He was finally home.
Confusing, I know but you will have all the answers about Chris' parentage by the end of chapter three of the beginning of chapter four. I will tell you now, though that he IS a biological Halliwell.