Ok so I know it's been longer than usual. However, I can no longer update like I used to. With school and all. I would like to update every week, but that won't always happen. Anyway on with the story.

Disclaimer: I own nothing!

CHRIS

"What is going-"Piper hissed immerging into the room, "Oh, hey Wyatt." I quickly let go of my father. I looked down at myself. Or rather my 12-year-old body. I blew out a breath; at least she wouldn't recognize me this way.

"Hello, mother," my father said stiffly, grabbing me and pulling me closer.

"Who's this," she said sweetly, staring at me. I look up at my father wondering what he was going to say. Surly he would know better than to say 'This is Chris.' He must realize I would like to keep my identity a secret. Nervously, I stared up at my father. Heart pounding.

"My son," he replies, looking down at me and back to his mother. Letting out a breath, I allow myself relax into my father's side.

Piper's face softens, "Oh hey, little guy. What's your name?" I stare at her dumfounded. Sure I was a little short for my age, however surly I didn't look five. Not like someone you would call, 'little guy.'

"Little guy, I think she's talking to you," my father joked. Wait joked? I stared at him mouth gapped open. Since when does my father ever joke?

"Um… ok. My name is… Henry!" I exclaimed. My father took an intake of breath. Interesting, I thought, looking over at him. His strong face, was passive, however his eyes were wide with surprise. I didn't understand. Henry, it was just a name. And of course he didn't know my Henry. My hero, my mentor, since the day I joined the resistance. There's no way he could know that Henry. Unless it's from the time my father likes to call 'pre-Chris' and would never talk about. Still, this reaction is to strong if Henry was just a guy he met in the grocery store one day. No, something else was going on.

"Henry? Oh hi, Henry, my names Piper, I am your grandma." She stated. This is Piper? Really? This was not the Piper I knew. Not at all. Had I brought the worst out of her? Thinking it over, I realized sadly that I must have. Brought the mistrustful, angry side out of her. That's the only explanation.

"I am 12, not five." I announced annoyed. Looking up, I studied my father's face. I didn't know much about the relationship between my father and his mother; however I did know that she was dead in my future. His face was calm, betraying none of his emotions. Caching my eye, he sent me a small smile, before turning to Piper.

"Hello, Mother. Please leave me and C- uh Henry here, were in the middle of a discussion." I quickly, shot a glance at my father. Does he plan to take me back? To the future, my very own jail.

"Oh, ok. Bye, Wyatt." She paused, "Bye Henry," Closing the door, she walked away.

Turning to my father I quickly asked, "Can I still stay in the past?"

"What, huh, oh yea. Why Henry? Why was that the name you chose?" I let out a breath I didn't even know I was holding. I was still allowed to stay.

"Why do you care, do you know someone named Henry?" I asked smoothly, my interest peaking.

"You answer my question, I'll answer yours," My father said coldly.

Thinking that this was the only way to get the answers I want, "Henry was a guy. From the resistance. He saved me." I mumbled.

Raising his eyebrows, my father asked, "How did, he save you?"

Taking a deep breath, I launched into my story knowing this would not end well. "Well, he… he well. There were these people, that wanted to… well… kill me. Because, they thought I um… that if… I um… died, you would feel… their…um… well their pain."

"WHAT?"

ELIZABETH

"Steven, I don't fell right eating this. It's conjured. And, well you know, there's personal gain." I muttered looking down at the gourmet meal. It didn't feel right eating this, when in the future my baby brother probably isn't eating. And probably hasn't yet this day. Food was rare in the future. Our bodies adapted. One meal a day was plenty. Even if sometime we went two or three days, without anything, but water. Plus it didn't help that it was conjured. Eating, conjured food it was unnatural. Wrong. Who knows what kind of diseases I could contract, from conjured food? It was disgusting.

"Come on, it probably ok." He grinned looking down at the food with his mouth watering.

"You never did, this before. In the future. You were too worried, about health problems and such. What's changed?"

"MADDIE DIED THAT'S WHAT CHANGE," he screeched in a way I have never seen a grown man do.

"Sorry, I didn't mean anything bad by it," I answered quickly. I did not want to get in the fight of the regular, resistance leader Steven. And I definitely did not want to fight with obsessive, grieving, revenge-driven, Steven, that's for sure.

Signing, Steven turns to me changing the subject, "Do you have a plan to make Wyatt feel the pain?"

"Actually I thought we could make a spell that creates a bond between Lord Wyatt and Christopher. Causing Lord Wyatt to feel the torture, yet with another spell, cannot find young Christopher to stop it. And of course this spell would work, no matter what time; Christopher and Lord Wyatt are in."

"Don't call him that," Steven growled, eyes narrowing. The smallest things could set him off, these days.

"What?" I asked, confused.

"He is not a Lord! Nor, will her ever be. He just a sociopathic murderer!" He screamed, "He killed Maddie. He killed your mother, too, didn't he? He has killed millions. Yet, you still call him a Lord? He nothing better, than the stuff on the bottom of my shoe, and should be called accordingly." At the end of his rant, Steven face was red. He was gasping for breath, and tears rolled down his cheek. It was then I decided that whatever he wanted from me deserved it.

I didn't know much of Steven's past, though I did know that he took control of the resistance after the old leader, Paige, died. He was 22. I knew that he was fiercely protective of his sister, Maddie, and that was the only family he had left. I knew he lived in the real world since he was ten years old, trying to find money and keep his family alive. Though mostly the only person he cared about since he reached double digits was his sister. His sister was his everything, and she died. She was murdered by Lord W-… Wyatt. Wyatt deserved this. And who knows, maybe young Christopher, isn't as innocent as he seemed. Maybe he deserved to die.

"The plan starts tonight," I whispered to Steven, before exiting the room. Oh, god, I hope I am doing the right thing, I thought.

PAIGE

As, I walked down the stairs I thought about the strange young couple that entered the attic, hours before. Friend or foe? Was the main question on my mind. Walking down the stairs I noticed an indent, where Leo crashed into the wall earlier.

After, finally, regaining consciousness; Leo had orbed up to the elders, not believing that the guy that tried to suffocate him, was his son. "That can't be Wyatt. A father always knows who his son is, and mine would never try to kill me!" He had said, before orbing to the elders to see who the man, that called himself Wyatt, really was. It had been an hour since then and he hadn't come back yet.

I probably should be worried, wondering what was taking so long. However, all I could think of was Chris's face, when he saw Wyatt. Shock, disbelief, fear, love and yearning. Who was Wyatt to Chris? For that matter who was Chris to Wyatt?

Hearing, my cell ring, I flipped it open, "Hello?"
"Wyatt hates me," I sobbing Piper answered.

"Oh no, Piper, he doesn't h-"I started, but was cut off.

"Paige? Oh I thought I called Phoebe. Sorry." She sniffled before hanging up. It felt like a knife sliced through my heart. I was still only the half- sister.

I have treated Chris a lot worse; he didn't deserve any of it. I thought before, deciding I would go talk to him. Make it up to him. Get his side of the story. I orbed out.

WYATT

"WHAT!" I gasped, staring at my son. He had just told me, the resistance had tried to kill him. It shouldn't come as much as a surprise. They had tried to kill him before. However, I was always there to protect him. If it weren't for Henry, he would be dead. Dead! He could have died and I would never have known. I couldn't help, but think of him. His body cold and unresponsive. No pulse, no sound of breathing. His body lay motionless. Alone, lying on a concrete sidewalk.

I squeeze my hands into a tight fist. Breathing, in and out I tried to control my anger. I couldn't get upset now. I couldn't scare him. I only just got him back.

"Come here," I whispered holding out my hands. I needed to fell his presence. His warmth, his heart beat. He hesitated, before slowly walking into my embrace. We stood there for a moment, before I slowly let go, holding him in front of me. He eyes shone with unshed tears. I couldn't help, but think that he was trying to hold in the tears to make himself seem strong. As I did, with my father.

For a second, I became panicked. He saw me the same way I saw Leo. No, you would have never let Leo hug you, I thought. Slowly the panic decreased.

"Christopher, you have no idea how worried I have been for the last couple of months. Searching for you day and night. I don't want you to ever, put yourself in that kind of danger again. Is that understood." I said calmly. In response I got a slow nod, and a couple of stray tears that couldn't stay unshed any longer.

Suddenly orbs filled the room, leaving behind Paige as the left.

Staring at Paige, I couldn't help but think of her daughter, whom looked just like her. Who died, because of my curse.

Aunt Paige made me baby-sit her self-centered daughter, as she went to courtroom. Something to do with my other aunt, the one who raised me, Phoebe's will. I turned toward Melinda, the daughter. She had thin brown hair, big brown eyes, full pink lips and a cute small nose. She looked like her mother.

"Ok, Melinda what do you want to do?" I asked the five-year old.

"Play," she squealed.

"Ok, go play." I said, turning so I could go watch some cartoons.

"NO!" she shouted,"Your supposed to play with me."

"NO," I contoured, before realizing I was in a screaming match with a five- year old. I was ten, a big boy. Much too old, to have a tantrum. "I rather not play right now, Melinda."

"But I want to," she pouted, as if she didn't understand why I would not do everything she asked of me.
I shook my head, before going into the TV room. Maybe this will give her a hint.

"MOM," she screeched to the ceiling. Rushing out to where she was standing, still in the parlor, I quickly tried to hush her.

"Melinda, Melinda shh… Mommy busy."

"Then, play," she said happily skipping down the hall, expecting me to follow her to her room. I slowly trudged to her room.

That's when I heard the scream. Shrill, it belonged to a little girl. I orbed to Melinda's room, immediately, but I was too late. The arrow had already pierced her heart. I quickly blew up the dark-lighter. Running to Melinda, I check to see if she was breathing.

She wasn't.

"Who are you?" Paige questioned staring at my son.

Still lost in my thoughts, I answered for him, "My son, Christopher."

What do you think? I take requests for my story. Just put it in a review. Speaking of a review. Review, Review, Review! Oh and I am working on a prequel to this called Life Before, check it out.