Disclaimer: Sill not mine.
AN: Yep. It's been a little while. Yep. I have reasons/excuses. Yep. You can read them at the bottom if you like.
RECAP: (in case you've forgotten all about me) Magic is no longer secret, following the Exposure, a battle on the Golden Gate Bridge between the underworld and the forces of good magic. Amongst the casualties were Phoebe's husband and children and she swore of magic. A few years later, Chris is 14 and Piper is dead, shot by humans in an anti-magic radical group. Chris is falling apart and didn't go to her funeral after having a big fight with Wyatt about it. He later went on to have a big fight at school with a random newbie empath in which he totally kicked ass and then yelled at his father and insulted Gideon. He then proceeded to have a near nervous breakdown in his grandfather's kitchen and found comfort in Phoebe's arms, despite the fact he has never let himself get close to her. He starts to wonder if this is somehow payback for his part in the deaths of Phoebe's family... moving on!
Open my heart, feel it slow. - The Morning Of; "Heaven or Hell"
Chapter Three: Long Division
August 2018
"He needs to be with his family Victor."
"I'm his grandfather Leo! I am family."
They had been at each others throats arguing for the last ten minutes – at least, that's how long Chris had been sitting at the bottom of the stairs listening – and it didn't sound like they were going to stop anytime soon. It wasn't exactly surprising. It had been roughly a month since he made the decision to leave the magically restored manor and live with his grandfather in San Mateo, and the rest of his family had been in an uproar ever since then. Never mind that it was a 30 minutes car ride either direction and forget the fact that half his family had orbing abilities that could make the trip in 30 seconds; Chris was suddenly the cause of his family's newest dysfunction. It probably wouldn't have been so bad if Chris hadn't also decided to drop out if Magic School and attend the local public school. So no, the arguing itself wasn't all that surprising. Leo's interest in the matter, was.
"He needs to be with his brother and sister. They can help him," Chris heard Leo say, his voice full of genuine concern. It was such a different side of Leo. It reminded him of the stories his mom had told him about what Leo used to be like. She said he used to be kind and gentle and loving to everyone he came across. He used to be loyal and protective and would go to the ends of the earth for the people he cared about. It was like a fairy tale to Chris, to hear those stories about his father, but he couldn't for the life of him recall experiencing it for himself. He almost convinced himself he was dreaming, but he never dreamed of his dad. Well he did but it usually involved things Chris never had the courage to say and were a bit on the violent side.
"This is not something I expect you to understand Victor," Leo continued. "They have a... unique bond, especially Wyatt and Chris. It strengthens and protects them. It creates a balance for them. Simply put, they need each other. I'm... afraid for my sons and what could happen if they grow apart."
Chris resisted the urge to look around the corner. That couldn't really be Leo, could it? The voice was his, but the words... the worry of a father, the fear, the concern – it was just too surreal. Leo never did this, not for Chris. It just never happened. Ever. And for the first time in a long time, Chris allowed himself to wonder maybe he might be right.
"The effects it could have on their magic-."
Of fucking course, Chris seethed. It wasn't about him. It's never about him. It's about the magic, the greater good...
"I don't give a rat's ass about their magic Leo!" Victor shouted.
"Then think about Wyatt!"
… and about Wyatt.
"He needs his brother!"
Never about him.
"I think it's you that doesn't understand Leo," Victor hissed. "Chris-."
"I do not need your help in understanding my son."
"The hell you don't!" Victor yelled as the clatter of a chair hitting linoleum filled the air. Chris pictured his grandfather knocking it down, trying to appear intimidating. It used to work on him when he was younger, before he knew it was mostly bluff. There was a shuffling of feet and Victor's voice dropped to a deadly serious whisper that Chris had to strain to hear. "Let's make a deal, you and I. You go on doing what you've always done and look after Wyatt and I'll continue being there for Chris. Shouldn't be a big change for you."
"That is not fair," Leo protested. "I have been there for both of my sons as often as I can."
"Whatever helps you sleep at night."
The familiar sound of dissolving orbs filled the air and Chris knew Leo was gone. He smirked, hoping Victor had embarrassed him in front of all his Elder buddies. Not many humans could force an Elder out of their homes. Not many humans knew many Elders, but still. He unfolded his long legs and stood up, walking into the kitchen.
"Elders don't sleep," he said and a surprised Victor stumbled over the chair he was trying to pick up. Chris caught him by the arm and steadied the older man before he could fall. Not his best idea, he decided. "Sorry," he grimaced.
"I didn't think you were awake yet," Victor sighed and sat down. "I- well you weren't really supposed to hear that."
"Hear what?" Chris scoffed. "That I'm screwing up Wyatt and magic and the whole world because I moved out for awhile? I've heard it before."
"You've never moved out before Chris." Victor pointed out.
"Context isn't really that important," he shrugged. "It basically boils down to me being a selfish bastard."
"Chris, language."
"Sorry."
There was an awkward pause. It seemed like Victor wanted to say something and he wasn't sure how. Chris recognized the look, all adults had it and it was usually something he didn't want to hear. But until Victor was ready to speak up, Chris occupied himself with the reason he'd come downstairs in the first place; he was dying of thirst.
As he grabbed a water bottle out of the refrigerator, Victor cleared his throat and said "I think your father means well."
What? Chris kept his back turned to his grandfather, his grip tightening on the plastic bottle, crunching the ridges together. "I thought you were on my side."
"I'm always on your side," Victor insisted. "Yes, Leo's insufferable sometimes, but what I mean is... Chris, it's easy for me to understand him. Remember I used to be the deadbeat dad. He loves you, but I don't think he really knows how to... express that and it comes across like he has ulterior motives."
"He does," Chis growled through gritted teeth.
"But he has them for your sake," Victor said. Chris resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he stomped across the room to the medicine cabinet; less than an hour into his day and he already had a migraine. He popped the top off his prescription and slipped two of the tablets under his tongue. He'd gotten a lot of his strength back and he no longer fell asleep after taking two pills but that didn't mean he still didn't need them. The stitches were long gone but there was a constant ache deep in his muscle. It started when he woke up and built up in intensity over the course of the day. Some days, it was so heavy, it felt like he would collapse like he did after the fight with Kyle at Magic School. Other days... well other days it was better, but that didn't give anyone room to poke at it and that's exactly what it felt like as he listened to his beloved grandfather stick up for his useless dad.
"Son, you can stay here as long as you need," Victor concluded, placing a warm hand on Chris' shoulder. "I want you to and to be honest, I like the company. But... just... don't cut yourself off from your family. Especially Wyatt. I don't know much about magic, but it's always been obvious to me that you two are connected. It reminds me... well, it reminds me of your mother and her sisters."
Chris knew he was right; he was always right. He gulped down the rest of his water and pulled his grandfather into a hug. "I'll go see him right now, okay?"
"Now? Chris you start school today."
"So does he, which means he'll be awake," Chris explained. "I promise I'll get get back in time for class."
With that, Chris grabbed his bag and orbed out of the kitchen. He blinked and was in Wyatt's bedroom. At least, it used to be Wyatt's room and unless his brother's tastes had taken a sudden turn to pink lace and rose-scented incense, Chris was willing to bet it no longer was. Before it became Wyatt's room it belonged to...
"Chris you scared the life out of me!"
He cringed. Phoebe. Of all the people to accidentally drop in on, it would be Phoebe. Things were better between them, but it was still hard to be around her. She was trying harder than she had in years to look after him, asking about what he was thinking, saying he should talk about whatever was on his mind. She called more, texted more. It was easier when she thought he hated her.
"Is everything okay? Do you need to talk about it?" she asked, placing a cautious hand on his shoulder. He shrugged and her hand fell and he looked away so he didn't have to see her face crumble as well. Yes, it was easier when she didn't try. He didn't intend to hurt his aunt but it was just... God, it was just so hard. Whatever tenuous connection he had to his aunt now could be destroyed instantly if he had another meltdown. If she knew the truth... she could never know.
"Nothing's wrong, I'm fine," Chris mumbled, looking around the room. "I just came to see Wyatt."
"Ah," Phoebe nodded, pointing to the ceiling. "He moved into the attic."
"With the Book?" Chris asked, his eyebrows bunching together. "Isn't that kind of... high traffic?"
"You would think so, but no one really goes up there anymore," Phoebe explained. "It took us about 15 years but we finally memorized the good spells. Besides, it's been passed on to you and Wyatt now that... well you're the next generation and all."
"I... that's good, I guess. I mean Wyatt can keep it for now," Chris whispered, avoiding Phoebe's direct stare. She sighed and stepped forward and before Chris knew it had happened, pulled her nephew into a hug. One hand cradled the back of his neck and the other rested on his shoulder, warm and comforting. It felt of home, of every good thing there ever was in the world. He wanted so badly to put his arms around Phoebe and return the embrace, but if he moved even an inch, the dull throbbing pain would flair up, shattering the lie her arms created.
"It's okay Chris," Phoebe whispered into his ear. "I understand. I think more than anyone, I understand what you're doing."
"What am I doing?" he asked.
"You know..." Phoebe smiled sadly and moved her hands to cup the sides of his face. "You look so much like her, you know. It's almost like getting to see your mother again."
Chris blanched. All his life he'd heard the remarks and comparisons of his looks to Piper. He used to hate it when he was younger; thought people were saying he looked like a girl. He hated it now, for a different reason. Now the comparisons made him feel guilty, like he was taking her away all over again.
"I... I need to talk to Wyatt," he said before orbing shakily out of the room and into the attic. He could see Wyatt digging around in an old chest, his back to the door. Chris took a quick look around the room as he composed himself – she hadn't been kidding; Wyatt was really living up here. His bed was pushed against the wall that boasted the potions cabinet and and an old chest of drawers had been cleaned out and was now overflowing with his clothes. A whole entertainment center had been set up across the room where the old couch used to be. But the Book of Shadows lay open in its spot, centered on the floor in front of the stained glass windows.
"The attic, huh?" Chris asked.
"You're only mad because you didn't think of it first," Wyatt retorted without even looking up from his search. "I got the best room in the house and you're hiding out at grandpa's."
"Nice to see you too," Chris grumbled.
"What was that?"
"The TV looks new."
"It is," Wyatt, with a stack of parchment clenched in his fist, stood up and grinned at his brother. "And yeah, it's good to see you."
Chris chuckled and started rifling through Wyatt's book bag that lay open on his bed as Wyatt stepped behind a dressing screen and started pulling jeans out of his drawers. He pulled out a slip of paper headed with the official Magic School coat of arms and skimmed down the page.
"You only have three classes this year."
"I'm a senior, I'm almost done."
"Yeah but you've got four blocks of independent study. That's a full schedule."
"So?"
"I thought the plan was to take it easy your last year."
Wyatt came from behind the screen, his smile and his eyes were suddenly guarded. "I'm working on something and I need the library for it," he admitted, slipping a shirt over his head.
"For the school?"
"You could say that."
"Or I could say..."
"Think of it as a senior project," Wyatt smirked, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Think of it as a long time coming. You could help you know?"
Chris sighed; he knew it. Wyatt had been relatively okay when Chris moved out, but he'd nearly knocked out the electricity for the whole block when Chris told him he wouldn't be returning to Magic School and ever since then had been on his case about it. Always coming up with reasons to go, logical reasons, impractical reasons. Hell he'd even ordered Chris to go back. "I'll kick your ass all the way up the stairs" he'd promised.
"I don't have any free periods," Chris explained and reached inside his own bag for his schedule, waving the slip of paper, knowing that Wyatt wouldn't even glance at it anyway.
"Transfer and you'd have at least two," Wyatt argued.
"I'm not transferring Wyatt," Chris said as he struggled with the zipper on his bag before realizing his pills were blocking the zipper from closing. He palmed the small bottle and shook it, dumping the pills out into his other hand. He might need a refill soon, he thought.
"How many of those have you taken today?" Wyatt asked, his tone flat and emotionless, but Chris knew better. When Wyatt spoke like that, he was suspicious and worried.
"None," Chris lied. "The bottle doesn't fit in my bag. I'm just putting them in the pocket."
Wyatt nodded. "You shouldn't be on that shit anyway. It'll screw with your powers."
"Well then I guess it's a good thing I won't be using them for awhile," Chris announced before the thought properly registered in his mind. That was definitely not something he had meant to tell Wyatt. The atmosphere shifted instantly. It became tense and heavy and stormy as Chris watched the frustration build up in Wyatt's eyes. It wasn't really his fault, Chris knew. Wyatt was always the one to face things head on, no matter what it was. He'd always pushed Chris to be more like him, to see things in the black and white like he did. For Wyatt, there had never been any gray. Strong people fought, weak people ran. And Chris... Chris had run and embarrassed his brother by doing so.
"I'm sorry," Chris breathed. "I just... I don't know how to explain this to you Wyatt."
"You've already tried," Wyatt shrugged. "You're confused and lost and blah blah blah, whatever. It doesn't give you the right to desert me."
"You have dad," Chris rebutted. "And the rest of the family is here! Paige and Phoebe and Melinda-."
"And none of them are my brother!" Wyatt yelled. The old chandelier shook above their heads, sparking as the magic bounced off the old wires. They glanced at each other, Chris begging Wyatt to calm down and Wyatt blaming Chris for the electrical short in the first place.
Chris gulped. Maybe this is what Leo had been talking about, about how the brothers balanced each other. But Chris needed Wyatt to understand, to really understand why Chris had to go off on his on. It wasn't just Wyatt, or the family, or the loss of his mother. It was everything. And it was smothering him. He just needed an out. "I'm... I'm not going to stop being your brother. I just need to stop being a Halliwell. Just for a little while."
Chris had been prepared for his brother to be angry, but he was not ready for the defeatist looked that crawled over Wyatt's face. "It's not the same Chris," he said sadly, sinking down on the bed next to him.
"Did you know I was kidnapped?" Wyatt asked. Chris shook his head and Wyatt took a deep breath before continuing, staring off in the distance at something Chris couldn't see. "They don't talk about it, but it was right around the time you were born... I was about two or something and I was down in the underworld for weeks before they finally found me. They... they don't know I remember this. I don't remember all of it, like how I got there in the first place. I just remember being scared and alone and having to fight and hide. So... Chris, I understand what it feels like to be lost. I get it."
Chris just hung his head. He didn't know what to say. He was used to being the one with secrets, with holding them in. Now he was discovering that Wyatt had some of his own. Defining secrets, secrets that – if they were anything like his own – had probably changed however he might have been. It shouldn't be that surprising, he guessed. They were a family of witches; by classic definition, they lived in secret.
"But I ran home. And you're running away and I guess that's the part I can't understand."
Phoebe's voice ran through his head - "more than anyone, I understand" - and Chris finally grasped onto her words. He hadn't realized it before but that he was doing by removing himself was no different than what she had do when she swore off magic. Nobody had really understood it either. Oh they knew the reasons why, but they still wondered from time to time how she could just cut herself off from something that was part of her, part of who she was.
They weren't so different, Chris realized. For barely knowing her, she knew him.
"I should go," Chris said, slinging his bag across his shoulder. "I just wanted to see you before we got busy with school."
"Yeah, I've got to make a phone call before I get there anyway. For an all powerful school, they sure have-"
"Shit phone service," they said together as Wyatt dialed the phone.
"Get out of here," Wyatt grinned as Chris chuckled. "And don't go getting into any trouble. Watch your back."
"If you stop worrying, I will," Chris agreed as he reached the top of the stairs. Wyatt's muffled voice followed him all the way down and he could vaguely make out the words "ask you a favor" before he was completely out of earshot. He rounded the corner and saw Phoebe leaning against her bedroom door.
"You're going to be late if you don't hurry," Phoebe said.
"Yeah I'm on my way," Chris spoke quickly and walked past her, heading for the second flight of stairs but as he did, something tugged at him. He stopped short. "I understand" Phoebe's voice said in his conscience, whistling softly through his ear. And he knew, deep in his soul, that she did. And she deserved more from him than an a few tears and an awkward hug.
He spun around. "Aunt Phoebe!"
Phoebe stumbled over the door frame as she turned around to meet him. It must have startled her when he called to her. When he was close enough he leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek. It was an act he'd kept reserved specially for his mother when she was alive, but Phoebe, she deserved it. And he owed it to her.
"Thank you," he said and allowed himself to smile as she blushed. "Got to run," he added as he orbed out. He could hear Phoebe laughing as he exited the manor and followed his orbs as they raced across San Francisco toward his new school building.
It was bigger that he'd expected, even for a public school, and if he was going to pass himself off as a normal functioning member of the mortal variety, he knew he'd have to be careful where he orbed in and out of. So while his grandfather was busy registering him, Chris scoped out the perfect place to orb in undetected, the lighting rafters above the school's theater. No one used before lunch and should be completely deserted in the morning. In theory, it was fool-proof.
But he knew something had gone wrong the minute his body started to reform. He was immediately knocked off balance and thrown heavily on the steel banister, knocking the wind out him as he collapsed onto the narrow walkway. His breath hitched and he suddenly realized there was a weight on his chest that wasn't his own.
The weight rolled off him and Chris sat up, finding himself pinned to the ground by hard, angry eyes of steel and bronze, flashing dangerously in the low light. Chris flinched as an open fist flew past his vision and crashed onto the metal walkway. An arm, all lean muscle, yanked something from under his feet. He watched as the other person stood up, every moment jerky, almost like a spasm. His jaw was set in a concrete line. Even his close cropped brown hair seemed to be standing on end in anger.
"Goddamn blind fucking asshole," his voiced seemed to hiss and growl at once. "Watch where you pull that magic shit!"
Chris snapped out of his stupor and he sprang to his feet, wrestling his own bag from around the other guy's legs. "Well if you didn't show up out of the middle of nowhere, maybe-" he tried to yell but his breath was still coming in pants. Oh Christ, his side hurt.
"Ah fuck, you can't even breathe," the guy laughed. It was light and amused, the malice instantly evaporated from his voice. "You're going to be the tough guy here?"
"I don't need to breathe to take you," Chris snapped. "I don't even need to see you."
"You have no damn idea who you're fucking with kid," he half-growled, though his tone was still laced with that strange amusement.
"Neither do you."
They stood opposite of each other, squared off as they sized the other up. Up close, Chris could see that his initial impressions weren't far off. The guy was tall, though not much taller than Chris was himself. He wasn't bulky, but he seemed to be all muscle. Long and lean and sturdy. His hair wasn't dark exactly, but rather that strange middle color between blonde and brown, like wet sand. Chris was sure he'd imagine the eye color as a trick of light, but no; a strange star-burst of silver cut through the deep bronze of his iris. It was like nothing Chris had ever seen before on anyone.
Chris blinked first and the other smirked, a self-satisfied and cocky twist of his lips as he spoke. "I think you and I could get along," he smiled a wide grin and extended his hand towards Chris. "Name's Gabe Amanti."
"Did you hit your head?" Chris asked incredulously.
"Might have," Gabe shrugged, still grinning. "What difference does that make?"
"I guess it doesn't," he responded and shook Gabe's still extended hand. "Chris Hal... Perry."
"Halperry?"
"Perry. Chris Perry."
Not Halliwell. Not here. Chris imagined it would be hard to say the first time, that it would tear and rage against his chest in betrayal but instead it felt... free. Chris Perry was not a murderer. He was not a grieving son. He was not a traitourous brother. Chris Perry was tabula rasa, a blank slate. He was a brand new day.
AN2: As you may have noticed, this update took a bit longer getting up and here are the insanely boring reasons why. 1) I've had summer classes and they've been eating up my free time. 2) I got promoted at work, which is also eating up my free time. 3) My uncle got married. 4) My baby sister graduated high school. 5) Fighting with my father is all kinds of exhausting. 6) Kicking my roommate out so the apartment manager doesn't evict me as well is also exhausting. 7) Cleaning up after said roommate takes about 3 days, excluding time out for eat, sleep, work and study. 8) I have a few other projects that have been feeling neglected. 9) I had to finish reading Looking For Alaska by John Green before I could concentrate on anything else. 10) I had to finish my Danny Phantom drawing because I love Danny Phantom. 11) I rescued a kitten and named him Emo and he's a tiny little monster. 12) I don't really have a 12 but I feel like I'm on a roll here and 12 is just a nice even number, but for the sake of having another "reason" to justify having a number, Logan Lerman is hot and very distracting (and also rumored to play Charlie in the "Perks of Being a Wallflower" movie and there could not be better choice in my mind so I'm ridiculously excited about that).
(and we all take a deep breath)
It was a little bit shorter than normal – my usual is 10 pages, and this was 8 – but I really wanted to get something out to you guys. Can't say when the next update will be, but I hope it'll be sooner than this one. Just stick with me, I promise it's coming.
