A/N Hey guys! Thank you for the reviews, favorites and follows. Each notification makes me smile :). I'm going on a five-day-long camping trip, and my birthday is the day I come back, so I'm sorry to say that the next update will most likely be in a week. Enjoy this chapter like I enjoyed writing it. I really miss the Charmed-universe. Don't you?
He does stop by for dinner. Actually, he is two hours early, covered in the same slime as he was that afternoon.
Piper wrinkles her nose, and tells him that he has plenty of time to take a shower before dinner. He smiles gratefully and orbs himself straight to the shower, keeping the slime neatly of the floor.
She hums to herself as she stirs the sauce. Wyatt went to sleep without a fuss, only two demons this week and she finally has time to make her lasagne from scratch again.
The recipe lies in front of her, but she ignores it, slicing and dicing her veggies. The thoughtless movements allow her to ponder Chris again, which she has been doing obsessively since her 'revelation' this afternoon.
The witch doesn't exactly know how old her Whitelighter is, but if she had to guess he would be around 22. That would mean that Chris had been or would be born somewher between last year and the next three.
None of their magical friends have had children or are pregnant right now, so she's pretty sure that they meet this timeline's version of him because he's a friend of Wyatt's. Their respective ages would allow it, and it would explain why Chris seems so familiar with them.
It's strange though, because which teenage boys would be so close that Chris would go back in time to save Wyatt. Suddenly, her theory doesn't sound all that silly. Because family would do that for each other.
She wants to consider this more closely, but the object of her thoughts shows up clean and shaven in the kitchen. He takes a seat and leaves through the Book of Shadows, making notes when he finds new targets.
The baby monitor goes off, Wyatt crying loudly. Piper's pretty sure he's been having nightmares, and worriedly glances upstairs.
"Can you watch the sauce?" she asks her companion. He finally looks up and nods, turning back to the book once she's out of sight.
It takes her twenty minutes to calm Wyatt down and get him back to sleep . She hopes that Leo will visit him tonight. Maybe seeing his father will help a little.
When she gets back downstairs, she finds her maybe-family member throwing herbs into the sauce and kneeding the pasta dough with experienced hands. The recipe has vanished from the table and the potions mess from lunch has been cleaned up.
She watches him from her place by the door, reluctant to interrupt him.
If he is indeed family, he is either her nephew or her son. The idea itself is almost enough to make her back off, but her curiosity prevails. Right now, Phoebe and Paige are both more likely to have a child than her. Both are in commited relationships, and she knows her oldest sister really wants a daughter.
In this case though, she is leaning more toward Paige. Jason and Phoebe are both blond, and though she isn't good at any type of bonestructure as a way to identify parents, she knows that this equation doesn't equal the dark hair Chris has.
Richard as the father seems a lot more likely. If it is true, Chris is too good at pretending to be okay with his family ignoring and critizising him. They have said a lot of hurtful things to him, and shame washes over her.
She could ask him out right, but she is afraid of the answer. Piper resolves to figure out who he is exactly, wait until she has proof. Part of the reason is mind-freezing terror, but the other part just needs him to be unable to deny it.
The only plan she has right now is to keep her suspicion from Phoebe, because the girl can't keep a secret to save her life. She feels like she needs to share it with someone, but Paige will tell Phoebe, and it's not like she has any close magical friends.
She feels a glass being pressed into her hand, and opens her eyes to find Chris with a genuine smile in front of her. He has a beer in his hand, but her glass is filled with juice. His choice of drinks intrigues her, but she lets it slide.
Their dinner is in the oven, and she wonders if one of her sisters is going to stop by, or if she will be sharing the meal with her nephew/son. They clean up together, talking about the demons he hunted today.
She suddenly notices that he always talks about work as a way to avoid any personal questions. His story makes enough sense at the start and at the end, but he hurries through the middle. Chris is a great storyteller, so the jump seems strange.
"What did you do with the potion?" she asks, knowing that he had four vials and threw only three by his account.
"It shattered," he replies curtly.
She lays a hand on his arm to calm him, and while she sees nothing on his face, she feels the muscle tense under her fingers. Just to test, she increases the pressure, not enough to hurt in normal circumstances, but obviously hurting now. She wastes no time letting go and rolling up the sleeve of her unwilling patient.
A torn cloth, not dirty, but not clean either, covers his arm. She tuts in disapproval. She unties the flat and sloppy knot, uncovering the blisters underneath. The cloth sticks to the puss that oozes from them, and any cleaning he might have done in the shower has already been nullified. She looks him in the eye, and he looks back sheepishly.
"We have an emergency kit, you know. Several, in fact." To proof her point, she grabs one of them from the cabinet beneath the sink. Chris has taken his time sitting down, rolling up his sleeve even further.
She puts the kit on the table and moves to the sink to fill a bowl with water. When she turns back to the man, he's already struggling with bandaging his arm again. Frustrated, she taps his hand and traps it to the table until he stops struggling.
Chris is definitely independent, unused to people taking care of him. With that realization resurfaces the memory where he tells them all that his family is death. How many of them are left in the future? None?
"When was the last time someone did this for you?" she asks.
Chris doesn't look up. His eyes are mesmerized by the gentle administrations of his mother, distracting him from any potential future consequences. "Almost a decade," he murmurs distracted.
It takes everything Piper has not to falter. Just over a decade until they are all unable to take care of their children and nephews, that's how long they have left unless Chris manages to change the future, and maybe even then…
"Does Wyatt become evil because I die?"
The question is out of her mouth before she can stop it.
"What? No! Of course not, you're a great mom." Just like with his mother, the words are out of his mouth before he has the chance to apply his brain filter.
"So I am dead."
His silence is all the confirmation she needs. "Phoebe and Paige, too?" she pushes.
"Piper," he scolds, "you know I can't tell you that."
She sighs, knowing she pushed too hard, and finishes bandaging him up. With great timing, the oven rings, announcing that the lasagna is finished.