That Old Sense of Being
Summary: Most everything was left behind in the future that was no longer, including the confusing memory of a boy who was not quite family. But for the progenies of the Warren line, some old awareness is left behind in what has become the future.
Relationship: There are no relationship highlights, though if you need a starting point I prefer the canon pairings with Chris/Bianca and Piper/Leo. This little ficlet, however, just concentrates on the bond between sibling, though mainly Chris and Wyatt.
Disclaimer: Charmed does not belong to me and gives me no monetary gain in writing this snippet of the 'verse.
Chris Halliwell wakes up from his nightmares panting in large gulps of air and breathing harshly into his damp pillow to cover his painful moans. He stands and wipes his sweating head against the soft comforter before piling the wet cloths over to the side of the room where he will sneak them into the wash in the morning.
But in the mean time he is awake and the adrenaline high is rushing through his system assuring him that he will not go back to sleep any time soon. So instead, he silently walks from his room over to his brother's, careful to skip the loose floor board in the middle of the hall like all old houses and manors have. His navy blue silk night pants reach past his ankles but the pants are rolled up enough that it is only the cool wood that sends a small shiver of delight up his feet all the way passed his knees to his torso and down the tips of his fingers.
A glade of moonlight ricochets off of the glass from the high window and turns his dark hair silver, almost like the grey of old men who've been weighed with too much terribly blood war. His walk is quiet enough to be a veteran with the knowledge of how to walk and stand and avoid a blow but that is expected for anyone growing up in magic.
In his dreams he remembers this place he calls home, though sometimes there is some sort of dark harshness settled over the walls, making him feel unwelcome; and in other nightmares he just feels like the warmth is avoiding him, calling him out as if he is dirty and not fit to be there. The shiver he feels this time is not so pleasant and the goose bumps prickling up his arm make him take in a small breath. I love my home, he thinks to himself, with Mom and Dad and the Aunts and the Cousins and the Uncles. He walks towards a room not at all far away. And Wyatt. Always Wyatt.
Wyatt is his older brother and sometime he wishes he could be the older boys twin so neither would have to trudge through the homework and split family duties alone. But no. He is just two years younger and they both have to watch out for Mel. He passes his sister's room with a small glance, knowing that the girl is fast asleep in fairy tale dream land and wont be coming out of it until their mother wakes her with force.
No, he still walks forward and stops at a dark wood door. Placing his forehead against the wood he closes his eyes and takes a breath in through his nose. There is the obvious air of the door but something beneath the surface is also present and very identifiable to the young boy. It smells like sunshine and football and the leftover scent of a potion the older boy had messed up on half a week back. It's the scent of his big brother, standing tall and proud in front of the world only because he knows that Chris is there to back him up.
"You're always taking care of me, Chris." Wyatt once said to him after a demon vanquish gone bad where they'd almost lost both their mother and Wyatt. "Of course I am dummy head." Chris had replied back as if it was no big deal. And the truth of the matter is that it wasn't. "That's why I'm here. Who else can stop you from doing stupid things and holding you back from mortal fist fights." Wyatt Matthew Halliwell had always had an anger problem, some deep seeded emotion he could not even describe.
But Chris had understood. He had always understood his big brother, accepted that no one could be perfect as the world seem to think they had to be.
The dark haired boy whose mother had affectionately called "Peanut" for one reason or another sighed softly to himself after a while. And when he opened his eyes he couldn't tell how long he had been standing there. With a slow calculated move that left no sound save the quiet clicking of the doorknob, he twisted the silver handle and stepped into the room, the board behind him just open enough to show a slight flow of light that traveled through the window in an aurora of color.
Light blue like the sky as it was, Wyatt's room looked more like the ocean in the dark, the walls fading in and out of the depths of the ocean like it held some kind of mystery. But Chris knew what was in this room, knew every aspect of his brother. And as he stared at the lump of blankets in the center of the bed, his blank face faded away into his young countenance and a small smile washed over his face like storm clouds traveling away from the sky so a sun could shine through and grow the earth back to the top of the atmosphere. It was a big transformation.
The room was quiet and the older boy was off, away in his dreams where the world didn't have to make any type of sense. When Chris's heart finally began to settle into a normal pattern and the world around him began to fade away his dreams and leave realty next to him, a reminder that the world was what it was and he'd have to work to keep it that way. But that's okay because Chris Halliwell does not give up on family.
Wyatt is here.
Wyatt is okay.
Wyatt is sleeping in his bed without a snore and has a contented life to be settled in. All was mostly right in the world.
He slid the door closed just enough that the lock would not click into place and slowly paced himself down the hallway and the stairs. But he did step on the trick step because he never remembered it even after stepping around it ten times every day since he could walk.
He knew his mother kept an extra batch of peanut butter and chocolate chip cookies with peanuts around in the fridge for times when she couldn't sleep. He'd make some more as a surprise for breakfast.
Sitting at the counter with their plates out and waiting, the two brothers grin their sleepy morning hellos at the other and wait patiently for Piper Halliwell to wake their little sister like every morning since the girl had been born.
They live and love and eat their mother's wonderful meals like any other blessed family and when the Aunts step by for a 'morning snack' they just grin and hide their plates filled to the brim with seconds.
And when Melinda tells her mother scary visuals of her nightmares, of a world that never existed, the brothers just nod at her as if they understand and tell her "It was just a nightmare," they easily avoid not looking anyone in the eye.
Because sometimes Chris woke up wet with his sweat and panting in large painful breaths. Sometimes Wyatt woke with a feeling that he was forgetting something. Sometimes the brothers were just a little angrier at the world than could be explained.
But they'd never spoken of the dreams. Neither will meet the eyes of their equal, their brother, their enemy, their friend, and nod in recognition where they won't have to say "I see you, I know you, I recognise you." They won't.
Why ruin a good thing?
END.