Disclaimer: I own nothing; all the characters - except for Melinda, her family and friends - belong to the writers and creaters of Charmed.
A/N: I am so sorry it took so long to update; it sometimes hard to find time to write with so much stuff going on in my life. Anyways since it was quite a while since you've probably last thought about this story here is a recap:
Piper and Leo had a third child, a girl, Melinda, however the angel of desteny told them she would not be safe in the magical world, so they gave her to the sam church Patty and Sam gave Paige to, to be adopted by normal people. About sixteen years later, Melinda is living her life, completely unaware of being magical, when suddenly she is abducted by a strange man, who althought she doesn't know it is a demon. Wyatt and Chris have sort of figured out that their parents have been keeping something - melinda - a secret from them; while Piper is trying to explain Melinda to her sons, she, as well as Wyatt, Leo, Chris, Paige, Phoebe and Phoebe's youngest daughter Pandora all hear Melinda's voice in their heads despreatly pleading for help. Melinda's voice reminds Chris of his old life - with evil Wyatt - and of his prevous realtionship with Melinda.
That was long, but I hope it was helpful. Anyways, here you go. Chapter three, enjoy :)
Chapter Three: 2026
"Melinda, she's in trouble now," Chris said looking directly at his family, "I know you all heard that; I saw your faces – she's in trouble, and I we need to help her."
His head was still swirling with all the memories the voice had brought; each passing minute brought a new one, a new little fact he now knew, remembered, about the baby sister he had never actually met. With each passing second he was growing more and more attached to the girl his parents had kept a secret from him, as his old life's relationship with her seeped into his present one.
The more attached he got, the greater his panic became.
Wyatt turned to look at his brother, "Wait, so the voice was… our sister?"
Where his brother was overloaded with thoughts and clarity, Wyatt was overloaded with confusion. It was almost all too much new, life changing information for him to handle. It was all happening so fast.
Chris paused for a moment to gather his thoughts, "I don't like to talk too much about my… other past; all it does is upset more people than it helps but in this cause… I couldn't be more positive; we were really the only family we had for a long time; as strange as it seems, being as I've never met her, I would know that voice anywhere," he turned to his parents then, "and I think you knew that too."
The room paused for a moment.
"I thought for a moment –" Piper stated to reply but never got the chance to finish for at that moment the room filled with orbs of blue-white light and the youngest charmed one appeared, "Paige!"
"Would somebody please explain the non-charge voice in my head," she asked placing her hands on her hips.
"What no pleasantries? No 'hi how are you'," Piper grouched.
While Chris turned to his aunt, "Wait, you heard it too?"
"While of course I heard it –" Paige started after sticking her tongue out at Piper, then stopped, "wait, what do you mean 'too'?"
Before anyone could explain what they knew to her the telephone rung.
"I'll get it," Leo announced walking over the machine, "Hello… Phoebe, slowdown – you what?" he sighed, "you too – yeah, yeah – hold on, I'm going to put you on speaker phone."
"Let me guess – Phoebe heard it too," Paige said, "You know I'd really love to be let in on this big secret – what's going on?"
Piper opened her mouth, once again attempting to include her family in on the unexplainable events but once again was interrupted, "for the love of God!"
The room filled with an unearthly pink glow, and Coop, Phoebe's dashing cupid husband, and Pandora appeared.
Before anyone else could say or do anything Pandora stepped forward and away form her father.
"Melinda's in trouble; she needs our help."
Piper sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose.
This was almost all too much; there hadn't been this much drama, plotting, and confusion in the house since the days as hard-core charmed ones, since the ultimate battle. Sure Wyatt, and Chris, in resent years, have started to 'bring their work home with them' so to speak, and there had always been a few irksome demons but nothing upon this level; nothing that appeared to be this complicated.
It was starting to remind Piper of the 'good old days', charmed days; it was also bringing back a thought or desire that she hadn't felt in a long, long time. She suddenly felt completely over-whelmed and incapable of handling the situation; she suddenly wished for Prue back with a passion, and not because of the usual old ache she always had, of just wanting her sister. She wanted Prue back to handle the situation; she felt like the struggling middle sister all over again – the sister who was suddenly supposed to handle everything but couldn't.
The moment passed quickly enough though, and with another sigh, Piper let go of her face and took charge, "that's what is going on; Phoebe I think you better be here in person."
Nodding Coop was gone and back again with his wife in less than a minute.
"I know nothing," Coop said immediately upon his return, "all she would say is that, and I figured here was the best place to come."
"By Melinda… did she mean…" Paige asked slowly; Piper nodded, not needing her sister to finish the statement, "but how did she… never mind, you know what I don't need to know."
Phoebe looked at her daughter and asked in a soft voice, "Sweetie, how do you know this?"
The girl gave her mother a 'do you really need to ask' look.
"Ok then…" Phoebe said looking around the room, "what are we going to do now?"
Chris had watched the mayhem of his family appearing and disappearing with a slight disinterest. His world, his head had become cluttered enough, and with each new thought, new attachment, new worry that came to him his restlessness grew.
He couldn't just sit there anymore; he had to do something, they all did.
"I don't know," Piper said weakly, "We gave her up so this wouldn't happen.
Chris couldn't keep it back anymore, "It doesn't matter what we did or didn't do! What matters is what we do now, and now, we're going to save her… and soon."
Melinda moved her tongue around slowly in her mouth; she had the worst taste stuck in the back of her throat.
Her eyelids were heavy; she couldn't bring herself to open them and there was a dull ache in the back of her head.
Maybe I'm getting a cold, she thought slowly and shifted around a bit.
Her memory was fuzzy and as she laid there she tried to bring back the events of the strange dream she had.
Any dream that wasn't the usual one was strange for Melinda but this particular one was strange even without that fact.
It had start out normal enough; she could remember that; Brody Cartwright had talked to her, actually sat down beside her instead of his friends in English class.
What a ridiculous thought; so maybe is wasn't so normal, but good, that was a better word. The start of the dream had been good; in fact it had been marvelous.
It changed though.
Melinda shuttered as she remembered the man who had taken up the last half of her dream. His eyes, his voice, his ugly scar on his otherwise handsome face, she could still hear and see them all and chills started to run down her spin. He had been so otherworldly, so eerie. She had felt as entranced by him as she had been repelled.
It was such a bizarre thing to dream about that Melinda had started to question it.
Actually she was questioning all her thoughts; there was a cloud or fog in her head blocking all cognitive thought and leaving her in a permanent state of confusion.
Instead of worrying about it too much, however, Melinda continued to focus on the first half of her dream.
She recalled how she felt so close to him, how stunning his eyes had actually been, how much more dazzling his smile had been up close, his warmth, his smell…
His smell? Melinda stopped her daydreaming suddenly to question; you can't have a smell in a dream… can you?
With a leap of her heart, the cloud slowly lifted and she realized her mistake; it hadn't been a dream, but a real memory. It had actually happened! Brody Cartwright had actually talked to her, chosen her over his friends.
Her excitement was short-lived.
As the fog lifted, Melinda regained more of her cognitive skills and another, much darker, more troubling realization dawned on her.
If Brody was real than that means…
"Wake-y, wake-y Sleeping beauty; you wouldn't want to sleep through the whole show now would you?" the slippery, rich yet terrifying voice of her dream surrounded her again; this time accompanied by a sharp swift kick to the shin.
Panic pushed through her grogginess, waking her up enough to open her eyes and drag herself away from him. She pushed herself as far into the corner of the cold dark cave she was in as she could get, as far away from him as she could get.
"Ah," he said, his face lighting up with malicious delight, "she wakes; I was worried I had given you too much – taken all the fun out of it."
Too much of what? He must have drugged me, Melinda decided, that would explain the taste in my mouth… but when? He never gave me anything… I never drank anything. We were in an alleyway. It didn't make sense. None of this did. Why her? What did she do? He had addressed her specifically; he had known she was the one he wanted. It hadn't been random and yet she had never seen this man… thing before in her life.
She shook with terror, "Who-who are you? What-what-what did you do-do me; where- where am I?"
Only the first of many questions managed to make it past her terror and through her mouth.
"One at a time, one at a time, my dear," he said reaching down to pat her cheek; Melinda flinched away from his touch, "Let's start with the easiest; I am your worst nightmare. You don't need to know anymore than that. I am here to stop you before you stop me and many more of my people – you will live to rue the day I came into your life, or rather you would if you were going to live."
Mom, Dad… Charlotte Melinda thought painfully. It couldn't be real. Her brain refused to accept the last words he said. She wasn't going to die; she was too young.
She had never been so scared in her life; in fact, in the face of what was sure to be her death, Melinda was starting to think she had never been truly scared before that moment in her whole life. Nothing had ever felt like this – not even close. Her blood ran cold, her body shook uncontrollably, and her brain couldn't function.
She decided, as he swung himself toward her again, that if by some miracle, someone found her, if she some how survived this, she would never, ever, ever be scared of something that didn't warrant it again.
"Now, as for your next question – I did nothing to you at all, my dear, at least nothing that is worth worrying about – yet," he laughed his strange evilly majestic laugh, "as to your final inquiry, why, darling, you're in the underworld."
Melinda choked and sputtered, "The under-what? What are you?"
The question had been running through her head ever since she first saw him – how long ago was that? How long had she been asleep? Hours, days, weeks? – She hadn't been able to ask for fear of the answer; at that point, however, she had reached her limit. The question just burst out of her.
She still dreaded the answer; perhaps more so, now that the idea was out there, the thought that he was something different, something inhuman, and she was unable to take it back.
"No, no, no dear, that's not the question. That's not the question at all; the question is not what am I but rather, what are you?" he told her with an almost taunting tone.
"What am I?" she repeated dazed.
He shook his head and clucked his tongue, "I can't tell you that; where's the fun? Nope, that simply will not do, but perhaps I can show you."
Melinda stared in a bizarre twist of confusion, fear, and wonder as he walked slowly towards her with his hand held out towards her; he reminded Melinda of someone holding a scanning device looking for information.
"Hmm… let us see," he mumbled to himself as he approached, "Yes, oh yes this one will do nicely," he smiled maliciously, "let us just see if blood is thicker than water – spoiler alter, it won't be."
The question 'what do you mean?' was on the tip of her tongue when he waved his hand over the ground and a large, apparently endless dark hole appeared in the cold hard floor of the cavern.
Melinda scrambled away, her heart pounding with panic, "What the hell? Where-where did that come from?"
"Tut, tut, tut – I thought we were getting the hang of this question thing," he said, "it's not where it came from, young witch, that you need to worry about – it's where it is going."
The obvious question never left her facial features for before he was done speaking Melinda felt a push from behind and her scream was lost as she fell down the darkness of the pit.
The phone rung; Charlotte looked up but made no effort to answer it. It was never for her; the only person to really call her was Melinda and she usually got in touch with her via her cell phone or e-mail.
Thinking of Melinda reminded her that her friend should have called her by now. On a normal day, Melina would have called to check in after she was done her homework – the girl was horrible, she always did her homework first thing when she got home – and today hadn't been a normal day; today had been the day she had finally talked to Brody Cartwright. Charlotte had been expecting a call from her friend gushing as soon as she got home.
Charlotte picked up her cell; it was already six o'clock and still nothing.
She felt a tiny knot of cold worry spring up in her stomach; she pushed it back down.
Outside her room, Charlotte heard her mother pick up the hallway phone.
"Hello?" Mrs. Murdoch said and then added, after a slight pause, "Oh Hello Wendy!" Charlotte perked up. What was Melinda's mom doing calling her house? The nervous knot sprung up again, bigger than before, and refusing to be squashed, "What? No, no, Wendy, Wendy, calm down. I'm sure everything is alright – what is wrong?"
Charlotte couldn't just lie on her bed listening anymore; the knot had grown even larger and it felt like it was starting to weigh her down. She couldn't think, feel or see past her dread. This wasn't good, not good at all.
"Mom, what's going on?" she asked stepping into the hall.
Mrs. Murdoch held up her hand, "Charlotte's right here; I'll ask her. Wendy, I am sure it is going to be okay."
"Mom –" Charlotte started to repeat her question but her mother cut her off.
"Charlotte, honey, this is serious; I'm sure you are old enough to understand," her mother stared saying scaring her even more, "When was the last time you saw Melinda? What was she doing?"
"Melinda? What-Why? Mom what is going on?" Charlotte asked, far too concerned about what all this meant for her friend to just answer the question.
"Charlotte, honey – I know this is unfair to you, but now's really not the time; please just answer the question," Mrs. Murdoch replied.
Charlotte sighed and nodded her head, "Umm…after school. We walked to high street together, like we always do, then I went up and she went down. It was the same as everyday; Why? Mom what is going on?"
"Are you sure; there was nothing unusual? No one she was talking about? No one she was going to see?" her mom asked ignoring her question.
"Umm… no I don't think so… well maybe but," Charlotte mumbled more to herself.
"What is it honey?"
"Well, there was Brody Cartwright – she talked to him in English class," she replied slowly, " I didn't think it was much more than class stuff… but it is possible he may know something – mom, really, what is going on? What's wrong with Melinda?"
Through the whole conversation the knot in her stomach had grown larger and larger until Charlotte could think of and feel nothing else.
The foreboding feeling had turned into something far more serious and worrying.
"Not now, give me a moment sweetie," Mrs. Murdoch said before relaying everything her daughter had just said into the phone then with one more, "I'm sure it will all be alright," she hung up the phone.
As soon as she did Charlotte was there waiting. This time she didn't bother repeating her question; she believed that she had the right to know what was going on.
Melinda was her best friend, really her only friend. She was the sister she had always wanted but had never gotten. Charlotte knew everything about Melinda and visa-versa.
Anything that happened to Melinda, Charlotte felt like it happened to her.
"Charlotte, that was Mrs. Gladstone, Melinda's mother," only the gravity of the situation kept Charlotte from rolling her eyes and telling her mother 'obviously', "it seems that Melinda did not come home from school today."
Charlotte's world froze; the knot in her stomach tightened. It was all so surreal. For a long moment she didn't feel anything; it was like her brain just rejected the idea.
"What-what does that mean, exactly?" she finally got out.
She was grasping at straws; this didn't have to be a bad thing. Melinda simply could have gone to a store and lost track of time.
Her mother nodded understandingly, "Well, it could mean several things; it could be, and most likely is, a misunderstanding, and she is safely at a friend's house or the library and will be home soon or if not, well…"
Charlotte bit her lips together and nodded. Her brain was numb; this had to be a dream. It couldn't be real; it could not be happening to her.
"Mrs. Gladstone knew how worried you'd, we'd all, be, so she promised to call as soon as she came home… or they learn anything," Mrs. Murdoch told her.
Charlotte nodded, "Ok, I'll be in my room then."
It was in a shocked daze that Charlotte spent the rest of the night, her mind constantly flipping between optimism and despair.
As time went on, however, and no news came, this trance soon fell away and more and more the young girl just felt overwhelmed by despair.
By the morning, after a long sleepless, news-less night, Charlotte was a nervous mess who was sure she would never see her best friend again.
As she walked down the school hallway she felt like she was in a haze; what would life be like without Melinda, without her best friend?
As that thought entered her head another, far more sobering one followed – if it was this horrible for herself, she could only imagine what it must be like for Mr. and Mrs. Gladstone. Melinda was their only child, their world. For all that, all that they held dear, to be leaning precariously over the edge of being lost forever must be completely devastating.
The thought of losing Melinda was incomprehensible for Charlotte; however it must be world-shattering for her parents.
Charlotte started to open her locker but gave up halfway through, leaning her head on the door instead. She didn't have the will, the energy, to finish even that mundane task.
The noise, the lights, everything was overwhelming. It was too much to process; it was unreal. This time, in this very same place, only a day ago, she had been laughing and joking with her friend and now…
Where could she be?
"Charlotte? Charlotte – can I … can I talk to you," the voice was the only thing that could have pulled Charlotte out of her daze; it sounded so worried, so stressed, so pained, so close to how she felt, her sympathy for another human being in her pain brought her back to the real world for a few moments to try to heal it.
"Brody," her voice, tired and quiet from the night's emotional toll, managed to reflect the surprise she felt upon seeing the owner of the voice, "Umm… yeah sure, shoot."
He fidgeted, looking down at his feet.
His skin was pale, slightly sickly looking, and his handsome face was pinched and drawn with worry.
His eyes, when he finally looked up, showed a spectra of complicated emotions, "Melinda… is she, was she… Why did I get a call from her mother asking if I knew where she was? Is she alright? What is going on?"
Charlotte gritted her teeth and let her hand slowly drift down and off the locker. She didn't want to have to tell Brody. She didn't want to say the words out loud and make them real. Worst of all, she really didn't want to be the one to make the painful look on his face worse, because right now there was an undercurrent of desperate hope on his face and coming from mouth – hope that she will be able to deny what his conscience has been telling him and that Melinda was perfectly fine.
Once she told him the truth, all that hope will be gone and he, like herself, will be left with the painful truth. They probably will never see Melinda again.
"She's gone," she said finally, in a small voice that cracked despite herself, "Poof, disappeared – who knows where, doing who knows what; she didn't come home from school yesterday."
"But, but… that doesn't have to be bad does it?" he sounded desperate, he sounded much, Charlotte imagined, as she herself had the evening before.
She shrugged, "I honestly don't know; I want to believe… but I just don't know."
The two slipped into a morose silence; the unusuality of their togetherness and the absence of their only common acquaintance hung over them.
"Do you know that they say those not found in the first twenty four hours are usually not found alive?" Charlotte said in a quiet broken voice after a few moments.
"No, not Melinda," Brody said after a few moments in an usually fierce, determined voice, "I do not know where she is but she is not dead; she can't be – we're going to find her… somehow."
Melinda scrambled away, her heart pounding with panic, "What the hell? Where-where did that come from?"
"Tut, tut, tut – I thought we were getting the hang of this question thing," he said, "it's not where it came from, young witch, that you need to worry about – it's where it is going."
The obvious question never left her facial features for before he was done speaking Melinda felt a push from behind and her scream was lost as she fell down the darkness of the pit.
The fall seemed to last forever and then all of the sudden it didn't. She stopped with a crash.
Melinda groaned as she slowly pushed her way off the ground. She felt dizzy, achy, and disoriented; her day, her week, however long it has been since all this hell started, had gone from bad to worse, to worse.
Melinda just felt like there was no way to top her last stop; maybe she was already dead, after all that's what the thing had promised would happen, and really she shouldn't have been able to survive that fall.
She slowly pulled herself to her feel and started to rub her eyes; she was too stressed out to handle anything else, perhaps that meant she was too stressed out to be dead.
She, however, should have been paying more attention.
"Melinda! Melinda! What the hell are you doing?" a male voice yelled, sounding rather stressed and more than a little angry.
Jumping, Melinda opened her eyes and spun around trying to find the source of the voice, but instead found a man in his early twenties with long curly blond hair and a dark scowl on his face holding a ball of blue sparking … something… that looked extremely dangerous and directed at her.
Screaming, Melinda covered her head with her arms and braced herself for what was sure to be a painful and most likely fatal blow.
Instead, though, she heard a loud fizzling sound and the blond man roar, "You'll pay for that brother!"
Before she could move her arms and see what was going on a pair of arms grabbed her from behind and she felt odd almost pleasant but not quite, tingling feeling as the room she was in dematerialized in a swarm of blue-white lights; she then felt an odd floating feeling as she was sure she saw clouds floating by before seeing the blue-white lights again and was once again on solid ground in a dingy alleyway.
Feeling ill and dizzy, Melinda stumbled forward and braced herself against the wall. After taking a few shaky breaths, and determining that her lunch was not going to make a reappearance she turned around to face her second kidnapper in however long, who also just might be her savior.
As she laid eyes on him…
… she started.
He was also a twenty-something man, with shortish but messy brown hair and was of average height. In reality, he was an average American male, maybe a little on the attractive side, but other than that there was nothing special about him.
Nothing special, except that he fit the exact description of the brother Melinda had always daydreamed about having.
His face was a neutral slat that was only possibly leaning towards the emotions of sympathy or concern.
"What-what the hell was that?" she finally asked in a short shaky voice.
The neutral look slipped away immediately to be replaced by an expression that could only be described as anger, "I was going to ask you the same question."
A/N: Well that was chatper three. Again I am sorry it took so long to update; feel free to reveiw - I love some good constructive criticism, and just generally what you think. Thanks for reading and I hoped you enjoyed.