Sometimes, the wind
sparklehunter
sometimes, memory is the greatest sin of all.
in the changed future, there are 10 halliwell cousins. in the unchanged future, there are only eight. most of them don't matter.
2.
Chris is the only one who remembers this:
When he came to, Chris couldn't see.
He could hear, though, the sounds of breathing, and a wet sound that he recognized as blood in a lung. Someone was saying, "shhhh," soft and low, and there was an echo. His own pulse sounded like a drum, a low steady roar in his ears, and somewhere to the left, a clock ticked on.
Chris's head rested on something soft; he thought it might be a thigh. There was a heavy hand in his hair, and something draped over his arms. He had been wearing a t-shirt, Chris thought, but then there had been demons, and Robyn's screams.
"Rr," Chris said. His tongue felt thick and dry in his mouth, so he licked his lips and swallowed. "Robyn."
"Don't try to talk," Wyatt said. "The potion's still healing your chest; you could mess it up."
Oh, Chris thought, and promptly rolled away. Were his eyes were open? He couldn't tell. His hands were working, though, and he brought one up defensively in the direction of Wyatt's presence. Wyatt was right, his lungs spasmed with every breath, but that was Wyatt.
"Lay back!" Wyatt ordered, a little desperately. "Chris, don't be a fool, you could rupture an organ!"
"Where is he?" Chris spat out. Something dribbled down his chin with the words, and it tasted like blood. "Where is he, Wyatt?"
"Lay down and I'll tell you," Wyatt argued. "I'll bring him to you, just lay down." Wyatt was moving closed; Chris could hear the footsteps. Chris moved back as best he could, and found himself on his elbows and knees. My lungs, Chris thought, horrified. Why can't I breathe?
Wyatt's hands hovered above Chris for a moment, waiting to see if Chris would run again. Chris didn't have the energy, and so Wyatt wrapped a careful arm around his shoulders, easing him back and taking some of the pressure off his chest. Chris found himself tugged into Wyatt's lap, Wyatt's hands settling on his shoulders.
"I can't see," Chris said. "Where's Robyn?"
"You said his eyes would be fine," Wyatt snapped.
There was someone else in the room, then. Chris strained his senses, until he heard the whisper of robes, and a soft voice.
"His nerves may be swollen, your Majesty. His sight should return, soon." The voice hesitated before continuing. "Or he may never—"
The spark-fizzle that always accompanied Wyatt's blinking vanquishes cut off the words. Something wet (potion, it was that terrifying healing potion Wyatt used) was poured over Chris's eyes, and it seemed to burn through his lids. Chris screamed and convulsed, and Wyatt hunched down over him, pressing his forehead to his shoulder.
"It only hurts for a minute," Wyatt soothed. "Shhh, shhh."
Chris banged his fist into the ground. "Where," he ground out between waves of pain, "is -Ro-bynn!"
"I told you to stop talking!" Wyatt hissed. "So stop! Dammit, Chris, why do you do everything the hard way?"
"Robyn," Chris repeated. "F-fiv-ve f-foot –fiv-vve, bbrown h-hai-hair --""Someone bring me my cousin," Wyatt snarled. "Now close your mouth and let the potions work."
Things started to come into fuzzy reality. Wyatt was looking down at him, his eyes black and tense, with a bruise shading his cheek. The room around him was large and brown, all wooden walls and – the attic, it was the attic. If Chris tilted his head, he could see three large boxes marked 'Legos' in Mom's bold script. The old blanket from the couch was spread over him.
"You n-need a hairc-cu-t," Chris said.
Wyatt tightened his grip on his shoulders. "I like it long. Shut up."
"It's getting easi-easier to breath."
Wyatt opened his mouth to say something, a reluctant smile tugging at his lips, when a demon shimmered in with Robyn. Robyn looked singed, like he'd been caught in a momentary fire. His hair was smoking and his lashes were gone. The edges of his hoodie had melted, leaving his hands and neck red and raw.
"As you can see, Robyn's fine," Wyatt said.
Chris started struggling up. "He's smo-king!" he cried. "Ho-ww is that fi-ine?"
He had caught Wyatt off guard; he made it to his feet and to Robyn's side before Wyatt could scramble up. Chris tore down the zipper of the hoodie, cursing as hot metal burned his skin, and stripped it off, before going to work on Robyn's soft pajama bottoms. Everything was synthetic, Chris thought, it was all synthetic and why wasn't Robyn doing anything?
Wyatt reached around Chris to help out. "He must have tried to escape," he said. "There's a barrier around the manor for prisoners; his trying to orb must have set it off."
"Oh," said Chris, "So it's all okay that you fried our cousin, because he was trying to escape?" That took all the breath he had, so he rocked back and let Wyatt finish removing the clothing from Robyn's body.
"He should have known better," Wyatt said, using his telekinesis to steady Chris. "You would have known better."
"He's thirteen," Chris said, touched Robyn's shoulder. "Hey, Robyn? Robbie, you in there."
Watching the life fill Robyn's dark eyes was like watching light fill a stained glass window. Robyn blinked and looked at Chris, and then stumbled forward into his arms.
"Chris," he said. "Chris."
Chris was horrified to realize Robyn was crying, and that every move he made sent a shower of ash from his hair.
"Heal him," Chris said. "Goddammit Wyatt, heal him!"
Wyatt frowned. "He needs to learn to do as I say."
"Wyatt!" Chris demanded.
Wyatt only looked at him with dead black eyes, and Chris held back a scream.
"Please," Chris said.
Wyatt shrugged. "This is more important that some first degree burns, Chris."
Every time Chris thought his brother was back, every time he remembered the brilliant blue of Wyatt's eyes, something happened, something that made his gut churn and his eyes burn with tears. This was Robyn, quiet little Robyn, who liked robots and science fiction, and wanted to be a whitelighter like his Mom. This was Robyn, crying from pain in his arms, smelling of smoke and burned hair. This was Robyn, who Wyatt wouldn't heal.
The burn in his lungs had finally faded, but Chris still couldn't breathe.
"Now that you've seen him, we can get down to business," Wyatt announced.
"No," said Chris.
"I want you and Zach to move back in to the manor," Wyatt continued.
"No," said Chris, louder.
"We'll put Zach back in school, but on a fast track to graduate. You and I –"
"I said no!" Chris shouted. "No! You want me to talk to you? Then send me a letter, call me, send me a text, don't kidnap me and my cousin and then refuse to heal him! I'm not listening to you, I won't listen to you, Wyatt, I won't!"
Wyatt glared at Chris. "I did heal him," he said slowly, meanly. "I healed the head injury and I healed the broken bones and I healed the hand that was almost sawed off. And I healed your chest where it was burned through and your knee where it was shattered and your skull where it was fractured and your eyes which were blind."
"He's still burned," Chris whispered. "His skin feels like paper, Wyatt."
"That's his own fault."
Chris turned his head into the ashes of Robyn's hair so Wyatt wouldn't see him cry. "He's still a little kid, Wyatt."
"He's a Halliwell," Wyatt said. "He should know better."
Wyatt started talking again, about Zach and school and ruling the world. Chris ignored him, too busy trying to control the tears in his eyes. This wasn't Wyatt. Wyatt didn't want to rule the world, didn't want to kill people, and didn't leave people burning to teach a lesson. Wyatt loved Robyn and made rainbows for Zach's birthday and helped Chris cook breakfast in the morning for everyone, because no one else could cook in the house. Wyatt had promised not to leave Chris alone after Mom died, but here Chris was, alone, his little cousin burning in his arms.
When Wyatt stopped talking, Chris looked up at him. "I need to think about this," he said carefully. "I'm going to go to my room, okay?" and scooped Robyn into his arms to carry him down the attic stairs.
He could feel Wyatt's eyes on him, and shivered.
His bedroom was the same as he had left it, six months before. The bed wasn't made, because he'd been sleeping when Uncle Cole had told him what Wyatt was about to do. That had brought everything home, had made everything real, and Chris hadn't bothered to do anything other than a 30 second pack before going to help Zach and Grandpa. His books were still on the shelves, his wall adaptor was still next to the monitor, and most of his clothing was still in the closet. There was no dust, which was a little creepy.
Chris laid Robyn on the bed, running his fingers lightly through ashy hair before turning away. He found jeans and boxers and a shirt, and took them to the bathroom with a towel. Robyn was still crying when Chris led him to the tub.
"Why, Chris?" he kept saying. "It hurts so bad."
Chris ran the bath cold, hoping to cool the skin, and dumped Robyn in dressed in his boxers. Robyn gasped.
"Cold!" he said, happily. "I was so hot . . . ." and fell silent.
"Can you wash yourself?" Chris asked.
Robyn nodded. "Yeah," he said. "I – Chris, what's going on?"
Cold was bad for shock, Chris knew, and Robyn had been in shock, but it was good for burns, and the skin on Robyn's shoulders was already blistering. The clarity in Robyn's gaze made him think that maybe the cold had snapped him out of it.
"Wyatt has us," Chris said, after a long moment of trying to decide what to say. "Here, let me do your hair. I don't want you stressing those blisters."
Robyn nodded, bending his head toward Chris, and Chris continued.
"You were burned when you tried to orb out of here. He wants Zach and me to come home."
Robyn shivered. "He's a psycho, Chris."
Chris felt like he was eighty five, not fifteen, and rinsed soap and ash from his hands. "I'm gonna go see if we have burn cream."
As he walked out of the bathroom, he could feel Robyn's eyes on him, just like Wyatt.
Wyatt met him at the first aid kit in the kitchen. "I thought you were going to be in your room," he said, looking away from the demon at the table next to him.
Chris suppressed his instinct to vanquish. "I need the first aid kit," he bit out. It wasn't under the sink, anymore. After some searching, Chris found that Wyatt had moved it to the cupboard by the stove.
"I don't use it," Wyatt explained.
Chris slammed the cupboard shut, first aid kit in hand. "I would have guessed that," he said, and orbed upstairs.
He had half expected it to hurt, to be shot through with fire and end up screaming on the floor. Chris should have realized Wyatt wouldn't put it up within the house, not for Chris.
Robyn was stepping out of his boxers when Chris orbed in, and he dropped with a yelp to the floor of the tub when he realized someone was there.
"Chris!" he said. "Warn a guy!"
Chris rolled his eyes. "You have nothing I'd be looking at," he said lightly, and tossed Robyn a towel. "If you're done, come here."
Robyn grumbled under his breath, but wrapped the towel around his waist and gingerly stepped from the tub. "Why were you gone so long?" he said, hopping onto the sink.
Chris uncapped the burn cream, and frowned at the small tube. "Wyatt moved the first aid kit," he explained. "I'm going to start with your face, and go down until we run out."
Robyn had always complained about how scrawny he was, compared to Wyatt, who played football, and his older brother, Miles, but Chris was grateful. There was less of Robyn to slather with cream than there would have been Wyatt or Miles or even Chris. There were blisters on Robyn's face, by then, and ropes of them encircling his wrists and waist. The rubbing the cream into then tore some of them open, and Chris tried to remember what he knew about burns, and whether that was good or bad. He thought it was a good sign that the burns weren't too deep.
"Chris, what are we gonna do?" Robyn asked. "I tried to orb out, and I couldn't. Wyatt has the Manor crawling with demons. I –" he fell silent.
Chris finished the burns on Robyn's torso, and knelt down to do his calves. The blisters had all popped, by then, and Robyn was starting to flinch as he worked.
"When we get hone, we'll wrap you up in ice," Chris said. "That should help, right?"
Robyn's voice came from behind clenched teeth. "But how, Chris?"
Chris found himself hesitating. "I have an idea," he said, "But let's not talk about it. How much does this all hurt? On a scale of one to ten."
"Where one's a paper cut and ten is me committing suicide?" Robyn asked. "A seven. Or maybe an eight. I can barely breathe, Chris, and Wyatt's in the house, and I'm scared. I want my Dad."
Chris nodded. "I know, kiddo," he said. "I promise you, I'll get you to your Dad soon. Now, stand up so I can wrap these."
The first aid kit didn't have enough bandages for all the burns, so Chris ripped up some of his old t-shirts to use, and Robyn couldn't lift his arms, so Chris pulled on a t-shirt, and the jeans were too stiff, so Chris used an old pair of pajama pants, instead. When they were done, Robyn looked a lot like a mummy, but it was better than nothing.
Chris looked at Robyn. Robyn's eyes were wrinkled with pain, and he jaw was so tight he looked like Leo when Leo was talking to Chris or Uncle Cole. His hair was sort of crispy, too, and the rest of his eyebrows had fallen off in the bath, so he looked like an old-time cancer patient. Chris wrapped his arms gently around him, and Robyn sniffled.
"It hurts, Chris," Robyn whispered.
Chris said, "It'll be okay, Robyn," and carried Robyn back to his bedroom.
He put Robyn back on the bed, pulling a blanket on top, and then turned and closed the door. He could hear Wyatt downstairs, talking to someone in flat, arrogant syllables. Chris clenched his fists, and walked to his desk.
The monitor was halfway holographic, since a fully holographic monitor cost too much, and the processor and hard drive and memory were all included. It was actually a portable version, the replacement of the original laptop, and Chris has complained more than once to Grandpa about forgetting it. However, the internet access was still working, and Chris figured it was probably a Zach thing, that he'd forgotten it, because if this worked, it would be a miracle.
It was a Zach thing, because Uncle Cole answered on the first chime, and Chris could see Zach sitting at the table behind him.
"Oh, God, Chris," Uncle Cole said. "Thank God. We thought you might be dead. Where are you?"
"Shh!" Chris hissed.
"Is that Uncle Cole?" Robyn whispered.
Chris nodded absently. "Uncle Cole, we're at the Manor. Can—"
"Robyn's with you?" Cole asked.
"Yes," Chris whispered, "But so is Wyatt, so can we make this fast? We can't orb out of here, but I think you could shimmer. We're in my room."
Uncle Cole vanished from the screen before Chris finished speaking. Chris turned, and there he was, hovering worriedly over Robyn.
"What happened?" Uncle Cole asked.
"Can we just leave?" Chris asked, picking up the monitor. "I'll tell you later."
Uncle Cole gave his a nod, and scooped Robyn into his arms. Chris tucked in next to them, and then the entire world was fading into heat.
When everything came back into focus, the three of them were in the living area. Uncle Glenn was walking into the room at the same moment, and saying:
"I just want to find my son, Leo, it isn't that hard. Can't you just sense him or – Robbie!" and was pulling Robyn out of Cole's arms and into his own so fast Chris thought he probably had whiplash.
Leo was standing a few feet off. "I told you, you just need a little faith, Glenn," he said.
Chris swallowed, and took a step back. "I have a meeting," he said. "I think I'm late. Uncle Cole, can you make sure Leo doesn't leave without –"
"Chris?" Leo said. "What are you doing?"
Chris looked at Leo, and felt more helpless than he had back at the Manor with Wyatt, and Robyn smoking in his arms.
"I," he said. "I was. . . ."
"He rescued me, Uncle Leo," Robyn said, when it was obvious Chris wouldn't continue. "Wyatt had me, and Chris saved me."
Leo stepped closer. "Then – why are you covered in bandages, Robbie?"
Glenn hissed at Leo, "Idiot," but Chris barely heard it.
"I have a meeting," Chris repeated. "I have to go. I – you'll be okay, Robyn, didn't I tell you?" and he orbed out.