The Darkest of Places
Disclaimer: Sadly, I do not own Charmed or its characters.
Summary: Chris remembers a dark moment in his life. Things go bad while down in the underworld. Eventually a Chris-Revelation Fic. Pre-Prince Charming and Chris-Crossed.
"Chris! My god, I didn't see you there!" yelped Piper walking out from the kitchen. "What are you doing here?"
"Sorry…" Chris apologized meekly. HE blinked slowly a few times, as if trying to shoo away sleep that was threatening to take over. "Where are Phoebe and Paige? I think I might have another lead on…"
"Oh, not this again!" Piper yelled, cutting him off. "Why don't you relax for a minute! I swear if you don't let up soon, one of us will crack! Me especially! Things aren't pretty when I explode. You've seen it first hand."
"Piper, I'm serious. This is really important to the future…"
"A future you refuse to tell us about." the woman snapped, throwing her hands up in the air. Rolling her eyes, she turned and went into the foyer.
Flashes of the dark future came to Chris, memories of a miserable time. Chaos…death… betrayal. The memory of his brother choking the life out of a young witch flashed before his eyes. The sound of her neck braking made Chris sick to his stomach, as did the sight of his older brother draining the dead body of its magic.
Chris squeezed his eyes shut, trying to shut out the memory once again. It was too soon to tell them. He needed to spare them of the horrible knowledge, if possible. "Trust me, my future is something that shouldn't be spoken about. The nightmares you'd have..." Chris' voice trailed off. Then, he swallowed hard and took a deep breath.
"Why don't you give me something to work off of then? Throw me a bone here!" Piper sat down in one of the chairs, crossed both her arms and leg, waiting for Chris to explain at least something.
"You KNOW I can't do that. Future conse…"
"…quences." He was yet again cut off by the older brunette. "That excuse is getting old."
"FINE! WHATEVER! I'll take care of the demons myself!" the whitelighter-witch yelled.
"I thought all you hippy angels were supposed to be pacifists?"
"You don't get to be a pacifist where I come from." With that, the whitelighter orbed back to his small room at P3.
Being the charmed ones whitelighter was a full time job, especially when you're trying to save the future by yourself. The past few weeks with them had taken a toll on the whitelighter. He barely found time to sleep during the time he was in the underworld searching for information pertaining Wyatt's turning. He hadn't eaten in days…maybe even weeks. He had lost count.
The sisters never took a second glance at him these days. They ignored him mostly. They couldn't see the dark circles under his eyes or that his clothes hung a little too loose. They're not supposed to see it though. They don't know to look for it.
To them he's a full-blooded whitelighter. Whitelighters are dead. They don't NEED sleep and don't NEED food. Eating and sleeping were luxuries for whitelighters. They didn't need them to survive.
But Chris is a half-blood, part whitelighter and part witch. Piper and Leo are staring at a part of themselves and don't even realize it.
So much for the whole theory about a mother being able to recognize her child anywhere. Chris laughed a bit, but cringed later as the small jolt of laughter caused his nausea to spring forth.
The smell of food made him nauseous now. Actually, EVERYTHING made him nauseous, even breathing. Quite ironic how the very thing you need is something you want nothing to do with. His stomach gnawed at him, making the nausea worse.
As it was said before, being the charmed ones' whitelighter and trying to save the world is a full-time job. He has no money because of this, which means he has no food to eat. Even if he had food, it would do him no good since he wouldn't be able to keep it down.
Hunger wasn't always this much of a problem though. After 2 days of the gnawing, his body decided to stop nagging, which was probably not a good thing. His stomach never growled now and the gnawing was limited. The nausea was his main problem. He could do nothing to really be rid of it. The only thing to do was try to ignore it as best as possible.
Chris had only become this starved in his life once before, years ago. It was an extremely dark place that Chris didn't want to be again. His memories of that time where stored away hidden in the back corner of his mind, protecting him.
Snapping out of his train of thought, Chris sluggishly walked over to a chest against the wall of the small office playing the role of his bedroom. From it, he took a sheathed athame and placed it on his belt, then he orbed to the underworld for his routine scouting.
TBC
A/N: SOOOOOOO? What is the verdict? Should I continue or leave this as a eternal cliffhanger?