Title: Shadows at Noon

Disclaimer: I don't own anything

Author's Note: So this is the prequel to The Lost Future. They can both stand alone, but basically, one is the story of what happened to Chris before going back in time, and the other is the story of what happens to him in the changed future. If you have read The Lost Future, then some of the characters and scenes may look familiar.

This is done mostly in a one-shot format. Each chapter is its own story, although together all the chapters make a story as well. But this does mean that there will be some time gaps between each of the chapters. (if this doesn't make sense to you now, hopefully it will as the story progresses).

Also, for anyone who read The Lost Future, I just rewrote the epilogue. I posted the new version, and would like to know what people think of it.

Chapter One: The Beginning

"Mom?"

"Love you…"

"Mom! Mom! Please, don't…just hold on. Wyatt! Dad! Aunt Paige! Someone, anyone! Please!"

"Piper…"

"Heal her! Come on, heal her!"

"I can't…"

"NO! Try again!"

It was a simple gravestone. Just a single slab of stone, plain and ordinary. No frills, no statues, nothing to distinguish it from the myriad of other grave markers that lined the rows of the cemetery. Only a few brief words etched across the granite face. It was decorated with ribbons and flowers, but no one had pulled away the weeds and grass that encroached upon it. Instead, it was partially buried beneath a mat of green, disappearing into the ground.

The rain beat down, causing small rivulets of water to appear on the stone, causing large puddles of water to appear on the dirt path. The ground turned to mud and wet pavement, the grass shone with large drops of water. The gray sky threatened more rain, without any sign of letting up. There was the roll of distant thunder, then, a few seconds later, the flash of lightning.

A boy stood in front of the marker, staring at it through bloodshot eyes. He stood, oblivious to the gathering storm, and the drops of rain mixed with the tears that streamed down his face. His dark hair was matted to his skin, his clothes were soaked, clinging to his body. The rain was cold, but not as cold as the emptiness that had seeped into him, the emptiness that chilled him to the bone.

His green eyes were dulled with an emotional pain that would not let go. His skin was pale, contrasting starkly with his dark hair. His lips had faded to a soft flesh-tone, barely discernable from the rest of his emaciated face. His cheekbones sunk inwards, and his already thin figure had slimmed to almost nothing. He looked like walking death.

He felt nothing.

He wanted so badly to feel something, some glimmer of fire and fury that currently consumed his brother. He wanted the burn of hatred that brought light to his brother's sky-blue eyes, or the insufferable agony of loss that haunted his father's features. He wanted something, anything, that would pull him away from the great expanse of emptiness that filled him.

But he felt nothing.

The funeral had been small. There was no one to come besides the few surviving family members. She had never had many friends. And the few she had managed to obtain were eventually lost, cast aside as the duties of being Charmed and being a mother took over her life. She dedicated her life to Good, and to Light, and to Defeating Evil.

And in the end she lost her life to them as well.

"Chris?"

The boy turned and stared at the figure who had appeared behind him and shivered uncontrollably, as though suddenly realizing that he was soaked. His lips trembled for a moment, and he bit his bottom one before turning away and looking out into nothing.

"Go away, Grandpa," he whispered, his voice barely audible above the rain.

"Come home with me," Victor Bennet replied, reaching out and placing a hand on his grandson's shoulder. Chris shrugged it off and stepped away, shaking his head in refusal.

"No," he said softly but determinedly. "I want to stay here for a while."

"You're all wet," Victor objected quietly, taking off his coat and draping it over the thin shoulders of the young witch-lighter. "You'll catch a cold if you stay out here. Your mother wouldn't want you to…"

"Don't!" Chris cried out, spinning around to face his grandfather angrily. "Don't bring her into this."

"She would want to be brought into it," Victor replied, choking on the words as he said them. He did not like magic, he had never liked magic. Magic had taken everything from him. His wife, his oldest daughter, and now… He swallowed and pushed the thought away. The dead were dead, he could do nothing for them. But he could still help Chris.

"Shut up," Chris hissed bitterly, but his eyes still showed no emotion.

"Chris, please," Victor begged, reaching out and grabbing Chris' shoulders again. This time he did not allow the young boy to throw him off, instead he held on tightly, pulling Chris into a hug. "Come home with me," he repeated, his voice soft and low. Coaxing.

He'd lost one more daughter, he couldn't lose his grandson too.

Chris nodded slowly, allowing himself to be lead from the cemetery. The two made their way along the curving path, and Victor wondered briefly if the other deaths marked by the tombstones in the cemetery had torn apart a family as much as this one had.

He had no way of knowing, at that point, how much worse things would get.

Behind them, the rain continued to beat down on the ground. It ran over the words etched into the gravestone, obscuring them, and whittling away at the engraving. The rain did not know or care who was buried there. The rest of the world did not know or care either. Only a few mourned her death, only a few noted her passing. Like her older sister, she passed away into oblivion, and the world did not notice.

But it would. One day, when it became clear how and why the war had started, everyone would looked back and remember.

Chris and Victor reached the gate of the cemetery and stepped out into the street. Back to real life. Back to reality. Back to the world that kept on turning. Time stopped for no man or woman, and least of all a dead one.

Behind them, the gate swung shut, locking into place with a sharp snap. And back along the twisting path, back under the weeds and grass, back beneath the pools of rainwater, the single gravestone sat, unnoticed and innocuous, bearing its short engraving.

Piper Halliwell. Beloved Mother, Sister, Wife, and Daughter. May she rest in peace.

"Ah, Leo," an Elder said, detaching himself from the group of Elders he was speaking to and making his way across the misty ground to reach the white-lighter. "How are you today?" He asked the question as sympathetically as he could, knowing that it sounded trite all the same. How do you console a man for the loss of his soul mate? How can you console a man for the loss of half his soul?

Leo snorted at the question and lowered his head. "Fine, Odin," he replied, biting off the words bitterly. He crossed his arms over his chest and glanced at the others who now made their way towards him. "I would like a hearing with the Elders."

Odin and a few other Elders exchanged brief looks, then Odin said, "Leo, are you thinking…?" He paused, suddenly unsure, and looked down.

"Of clipping my wings?" Leo offered. He swallowed back the lump in his throat and continued, "No, Odin, I am not thinking. I've already made up my mind."

"We can't condone such an action," a female Elder spoke up. She stepped forward and placed a hand on Leo's shoulder, trying her best to by sympathetic.

But Leo shrugged off her efforts and stepped away. "I'm not asking your permission," he replied, his haunted eyes meeting the Elder's stern and slightly disapproving gaze.

"I cannot pretend to understand what you are going through, Leo," the Elder said softly, "but I can…"

"No," Leo snapped, interrupting her. "You can't pretend to know what I am…" the sentence ended abruptly as the words choked in his throat. The tears that filled his eyes threatened to fall, and he blinked them hastily, turning away from the Elder. "I am sorry, Rhiana. I did not mean to snap," he said slightly guiltily. "But I have already reached my decision. I don't want to be a white-lighter anymore."

"What about your children?" Rhiana whispered.

"I am doing this for my children!" Leo replied. "They've just lost their mother. I need to be there for them. Don't you understand that?"

"Your children have a destiny to follow…" Odin said, his voice pompous, but well meaning. "They have a…"

"It was destiny that cost them their mother! I won't let it take their father from them as well," Leo replied determinedly. He brushed a tear away impatiently and turned his gaze from Odin and Rhiana to the other Elders, and to the circle of white-lighters that had gathered around them. "I can't leave them now."

Odin nodded slowly. "Leo, I know what you are thinking, and why you are thinking it. But whether or not you want them to have a destiny, they do. They can't escape their fate, and you can't escape yours. Piper understood this."

"All Piper wanted was a chance at a normal life," Leo objected.

"And when that chance came, when the Angel of Destiny offered it to them after they had vanquished the Source, she turned it down. She understood that magic wasn't something she did, it was who she was," Rhiana replied.

"And look where it got her. Look where it got all of us," Leo spat back.

"You can't stop your children from being witches, Leo," Rhiana said heavily. "But if you clip your wings now, you won't be able to guide them. Is that what you want?"

"If I stay a white-lighter, I will miss out on their lives," Leo replied. He rubbed his hands over his arms, suddenly cold and tired. "I don't want that. I don't want to have to disappear for days at a time to help some witch in Kenya or Argentina or Laos fight against evil. I don't want to leave them."

"Piper was supposed to teach them everything," Odin whispered. "But she can't. Who will do it for her if not you? Don't you see, by clipping your wings, you aren't preventing your children from being who they are. All you are doing, is writing yourself out of the magical part of their lives. Is that really what is best for them? Is that really what they would want? Is that what Piper would want you to do?"

Leo cursed inwardly, knowing that Odin was right.

The blade glittered, lethal and beautiful. It swung through the air, whistling with power. The light from the flickering torches on the walls danced up and down its length, illuminating each and every deadly inch of silver metal.

The second sword, a thin rapier of stainless steal and bronze, swung up to meet the first. But the first blade was the superior weapon by far, and the force of the blow caused the second weapon to shatter along its length, leaving its wielder unarmed. The great sword swung once more, aimed with perfect precision, and it unerringly hit home.

Wyatt Matthew Halliwell orbed out of the cave as yet another demon turned to ash.

Next Chapter: The Breakdown Lane

Due: Sun 11/12