Title: Shades of Blue
Season: 6
Summary: The sisters never really trusted Chris. Then they caught him letting a demon into Wyatt's room and kicked him out of P3. No one's seen him since. Until now.
Disclaimer: If I owned Charmed, Chris wouldn't have died. Chris died, therefore I don't own Charmed. That's got to be some kind of math proof.
A/N: Yay, I got reviews. I was going to ask for them, but I got them anyway. I'm happy now.
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"How are you feeling?" Piper asked not unkindly the next morning.
"A lot better, thanks," Chris replied, struggling to sit up.
Piper noticed his problem and rolled her eyes. "How are you really feeling?"
"Like a mantacore had me for dinner and then threw me up."
Piper nodded. "That makes a lot more sense, seeing as that's how you look." Chris glared at her. "Well you do."
"I'm fine," Chris said hoarsely. "I know I shouldn't have come running back to you last night, but I didn't know where else to go." He looked so pathetic and sick at that moment, Piper felt her anger melting away, even more so when he continued. "I promise I'll be out of your hair as soon as I can sit up straight." He attempted to get up again, but started coughing from the effort.
"That may be awhile," Piper told him, placing a hand on his forehead. He was very warm; not burning up, but definitely feverish enough to be uncomfortable. He flinched a bit at her touch, as though afraid she'd hit him.
"Do I have a fever?" he asked curiously.
"Not bad, but it's there. I don't see why you're so Paige what the hell are you doing!" Paige had orbed onto the couch in the middle of Piper's answer, scaring both her older sister and former whitelighter. She grinned sheepishly and lifted up the book she was holding as a peace offering.
"I brought the book of shadows," she explained unnecessarily.
"You shouldn't have bothered," Chris told her. "There's nothing in there that'll help me."
"But have you ever looked specifically for something to fix this?
"Yes."
"Really?" Paige looked up confused from the giant tome she was flipping through. "When?"
"Doesn't matter." He shifted a bit uncomfortably. "Could you get off my foot?"
Paige scooted over a bit. "What about a vanishing spell?"
"You want to vanquish my skin?"
Piper chuckled. "That'd be a sight. And as I was saying before I was rudely interrupted," she shot Paige a mean look, "you do have a fever, but it's not enough to make you this weak."
"Could not eating for three days do it?" he asked.
"You haven't eaten in three days?" she repeated loudly. He nodded. "I'm going to make you some soup."
She got up from the chair she had previously placed by the couch and headed for the kitchen, but was stopped by Chris' voice. "No thanks."
He turned around with her eyebrows raised. "You haven't eaten in days and you don't want food."
He shrugged, or at least she thought he did; the blanket by his shoulders moved anyway. "I'm not really that hungry. Plus, I'm allergic."
"Allergic to food?"
Chris shook his head. "Your soup."
Paige looked up from her book. "When have you ever had her soup?"
Chris blushed. "At some point." Piper and Paige glared at him, making it clear this wouldn't be enough information. "I was friends with your kids," he confessed, head bowed.
"You were friends with Wyatt?" Piper asked incredulously.
Chris shook his head frantically. "No. I was friends with Phoebe's daughter."
The sisters were silent for a minute, absorbing this new bit of information. Obviously, they'd have to tell Phoebe when she got home from work. Then, Piper continued to walk to the kitchen. "I'm going to go make your soup."
Chris tried again to sit up, calling to Piper "I told you I can't eat that."
Piper stuck her head out of the door. "You lie a lot."
"She has a point," Paige pointed out.
"Yah yeah yeah."
"So do you really know Phoebe's daughter?"
Chris nodded. "Yeah."
"She your age?"
"A few years younger."
"Okay," Paige squirmed a bit, trying to work up the courage to ask what she really wanted to ask. "Do I have any kids."
"The titans kill you," he reminded her. "I told you that already."
Paige blushed. "Oh yeah." There was silence for a few minutes, Paige flipping through the book of shadows and Chris attempting to fall back asleep before Piper got back. Then Paige spoke again. "Does Piper have any other kids?"
Chris groaned into the pillow, before struggling to face the half-witch again. "I can't tell you that."
"Why not?"
"Future consequences," he reminded her.
"I hate that phrase," Page snapped. "Who taught you that anyway?"
"My aunt."
"Do I know her?"
"I can't tell you."
"Can't tell her what?" Piper asked as she reentered the room carrying a steaming bowl.
"If she knows my family in the future," Chris told her, "and I can't eat that."
She handed him the bowl. "Of course you can't, your hands are shaking." He looked down at his hands, which had been trembling slightly without him noticing. "That's why I didn't give you a spoon."
"I can't drink the soup either."
"Sucks for you," Piper said. "Cause you're going to."
"Piper-"
"Do it!"
Chris took the bowl and brought it to his mouth, taking big gulps of the sweet liquid. It had been a very long time since he'd had any of Piper's home cooking, and the memories it brought up were almost sufficient to make him forget why he was so reluctant. Almost, but not quite.
He could feel his stomach churning painfully at the first sip, but when he tried to put it down Piper glared at him. He finished quickly, placing the empty bowl shakily on the ground.
"See?" Piper teased when he was finished. "Was that so bad?"
Chris hastily nodded yes and jumped up from the couch, making a beeline to the bathroom. Piper and Paige shared a confused look, and Piper got up and cautiously followed Chris. She found him kneeling on the floor in front of the toilet, violent sick.
"Oh dear," Piper gasped. "You really are allergic."
"Told you," he muttered, groaning as another wave of nausea hit him.
"You were right about the book too," Paige announced from the door where she had apparently followed them to. "There's spell in there."
"Why is the book of shadows on the couch?" Phoebe asked s she walked into the living room after work. "Was there an attack? Why didn't you call me? Where are you?"
"We're in the bathroom," Paige called.
"Together?" Phoebe kicked dropped her jacket and purse on the chair and headed to the bathroom. "What's wrong with you?" she asked Chris.
"Piper practically force-fed him some soup he was allergic too," Paige told her.
Piper glared at her. "It was an accident. I didn't know."
"I told you," Chris reminded her. "But you didn't believe me."
"Well you do lie a lot," Piper said defensively.
"And you hate that. And you hate me. I told you your son turns evil, and I've been completely dishonest with you the whole time I've been here. Why are you being so nice to me?"
"Because you're kind of too-" Piper had to wait to finish as Chris threw up again. "Pathetic."
As the need to turn his intestines inside out lessened, Chris was finally clearheaded enough to actually take in what was going on. "Are you really all standing here watching me hurl?" he asked with annoyance evident in his voice.
"Yes we are," Phoebe said. "Why are we doing that?"
"I don't know," Paige told her. "We should go."
Piper watched Paige and Phoebe head back to the living room before turning back to Chris. His eyes were tired and he was leaning against the wall. She felt a surge of protectiveness similar to the one she felt with Wyatt. Placing her hand on his neon forehead, she noted with a grimace his fever had gone up. There was no way he could stay on the floor like this.
"Are you done?" He nodded, and she helped him up and to the living room, where he promptly collapsed on the couch.
"I really am sorry," Piper said.
Chris nodded. "I know."
"well now that we're all square and stuff," Paige commented. "I have some good news."
"What's that?" Phoebe asked.
"Chris' eyes are red."
"Because they itch," he complained. "That's good news?"
"They're not blue."
"Hey!" Piper exclaimed. "She's right. Your face looks a little pinker too."
"Great," he sighed happily. "I can get out of here soon."
"Thanks," Phoebe said dryly.
"I have a question," Piper spoke up, wearing a contemplative expression. "You knew you were allergic to my soup. But I don't have the recipe written down. There's no way anyone could have made it for you in the future, except for"
"You?" He nodded. "You made it for me. Just once though."
"Why would I make you soup?"
"I was sick."
"But why would I make you soup?"
Chris blushed. "I don't know?"
"Yes you do," Piper argued. "Just tell me."
"I can't," he stressed. "Future consequences, remember?"
Phoebe grimaced. "Who taught you that annoying phrase?"
"You did," he said without thinking. A second later he realized what he had said and found the energy to sit up straight. "Crap."
