Disclaimer: No money is being made and no infringement is intended.
Warnings: Mentions of character death.
A/N: Set right around after Piper finds out Chris is her son, early first trimester before any thoughts of a force field have occurred to her.
His hands shook as he rinsed the blood off the small towel in the bowl, then tensing as he wrung it hard to squeeze the water out.
"I should be able to heal you. I should-"
Piper turned around with a quelled wince and stilled his hands as they reached up to secure the gauze.
"Chris-"
He couldn't look at her so he waited until she let his hands go and turned around again before he continued tending to her.
They were both silent as he worked, the only sound in the room coming from the small gasps of pain Piper tried and failed to hide.
By the time he'd finished, his mind was already shut down, cold and clinical. It was a familiar mindset- he'd had to create it years back as he tended to friends in The Resistance. His hands weren't shaking anymore, they were surgeon steady as he got past the memories of his mother lying in a pool of her own blood in the attic, his aunts holding him back as Leo tried and failed to bring her back.
He was closing the first aid kit, the area around it cleaned up leaving only the towel in the pale red water. Lost in his past, he didn't hear her feet shuffle as she stood up behind him.
She didn't say anything, he registered her presence again only when she placed her hands on his arms and leaned her head against his back.
The memories came back again; it was all he could do not to break right there, turn into his mothers arms and cry out an entire timeline of pain.
So he orbed out.