Disclaimer: I don't own Charmed, or any of its characters… I just wish I did.
Author's Note: I can't believe I'm already on Chapter Ten of this story! My goodness… time flies when you're having fun, right? Another thing… holy cow! I broke the one-hundred review mark on this story! Thanks so much guys! Heehee… several people asked what 'puerile' means. Puerile is an adjective meaning "childishly silly and trivial" - so, Chris was calling Wy a childish asshole. Sorry for leaving the last chapter with such a cliffhanger and having you guys wondering what was going to happen to Chris… well, here you go: the showdown with the Daughter of Nightmares begins.
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Chris looked over his shoulder to find himself face to face with a woman who took his breath away almost as much as Alwynne had when he'd first laid eyes on her playing her harp, only for different reasons. She was as tall as the fifteen-year-old witchlighter was, five-foot-seven, and clothed in a silvery white gown that hugged her twenty-something body. A belt made of silver moons and stars hung low around her waist in ornamental decoration. She didn't look like she should be in the barn, but everything about her radiated that she belonged here. No, that was wrong, it was the opposite: this place belonged to her.
Dark, straight raven hair fell down her back. Her skin was like pale ivory, making her face seem like that of a porcelain sculpture with strong cheekbones. Her eyes were the same shade of blue as Alwynne's, only there was no innocence in hers. There was only a bottomless pool of frigid, icy knowledge that made her seem far older than her face belied. Her full lips spread into a grim smile.
Chris had no way of explaining the illogical fear that caused his heart to pound faster in his chest. She hadn't even done anything to warrant it. A handful of cryptic-seeming words that had too much of the ring of cliché villain for him to take her seriously. Only, Chris did take her seriously. Very seriously.
He swallowed again, finding that his mouth had gone unexplainably dry. Alwynne was behind him, no doubt frozen by her own fears of the woman that stood before them. Chris stood his ground, not taking the sensible step back from her that he probably should have after what Alwynne had told him about her. He never had been sensible about things like this, not always doing what sane people would do when faced with something they ought to be afraid of - neurotic - his family called it. Even the unseen eyes that had been following him since he had 'woken up' here had fled.
The woman, Daughter of Nightmares, shook her head at him and made a dismissive gesture with her hand before walking past him to pluck a hoof pick from a bucket of grooming supplies on the barn floor. Chris couldn't take his eyes off of her even to blink. Walking didn't quite describe her movements. It was move like floating. She examined the hoof pick without sparing the two teenagers a look as though they were not of her concern. Her pristinely white garment contrasted severely with the image he'd expected of her.
Seeming to read his thoughts, the woman looked up at him. She dropped the hoof pick back into the bucket and stood, dusting her hands off. "You were expecting black robes? Alwynne, dear. Where are you manners? You didn't introduce us."
Chris broke his line of sight away from the raven-haired woman to look behind him at Alwynne. She had pressed herself back against a wall and had her lower lip caught between her teeth looking at The Daughter of Nightmares with a mixture of dread, fear, and familiarity.
"Come now. Do not be rude," the woman in white said, folding her hands placidly in front of herself. Chris looked towards her again and this time he did take a step back. The whole barn was growing darker and beginning to fill with shadows, only she seemed to radiate pristine white light. Chris stepped back and put himself protectively between the woman and his innocent.
"Found yourself another hero?" the woman asked. She wasn't coming any closer to the two of them. She was merely watching them both with her ice-chip eyes. Something about that look sent shivers up and down his spine.
Alwynne clutched onto one of Chris's hands, giving it a desperate tug. The golden-haired girl didn't say a word, but the urgency in her gesture said more than enough. He needed to get them out of here. Chris willed himself home, trying to orb, but found the shimmering sparkle of lights didn't form. Not good, he thought, backing up and causing Alwynne to back up further.
"Does this hero have a name Alwynne?" the woman inquired with just the faintest hint of amusement. The shadows were darkening, obscuring the doorway out of the barn. The woman stood between them and it anyway, but the shadows made the idea of trying to get past her all the more intimidating. "Does he know why you're hiding here in the barn and backing away from me?"
"Leave her alone," Chris said.
The white-clad woman raised one perfectly sculpted black eyebrow, "What has she said to you to inspire such chivalry? Since she won't tell me your name, why don't you share it with me? I would hate not to be introduced to someone so brave and so very naïve. I like to know the names of Alwynne's would-be champions."
Chris narrowed his green eyes and lifted his chin, finding some of his inner fire once more as he looked across the barn at the intimidating woman. "I don't have to tell you anything about me, but you should know that you're messing with the wrong person."
Why can't I orb? Chris thought frantically. Alwynne still had his hand and hers was practically trembling inside his now. He needed to calm down. He knew he did. It's mind over matter. He moistened his lips. Orbing was a fear response. He ought to have been able to orb to the moon if he had wanted to, but maybe it just didn't work here. This wasn't the real world this was the World of Dreams. A sinking dread started to fill Chris as the dark-haired woman began a slow, gliding approach towards them. What if his powers didn't work here…?
"He can't get you out of here Alwynne, I won't allow it to happen," the woman said, still gliding closer, "I won't let it. You want to use him as a pawn against me as you used the others? Do you really want to try? His blood will be on your hands. If he is wise, then he will take my generous offer to leave. Right. Now. I will only offer him the opportunity once because I admire his imprudent valor."
"If you think that I'm going to leave her here with you then you've got another thing coming to you," Chris said.
From the inky black shadows a pair of ravens emerged and swooped, descending upon Alwynne. The girl shrieked and released Chris's hand to lift hers up in an attempt to fend off the birds. The woman in white had stopped, standing in the middle of the barn, with her hands clasped in front of her.
"Alwynne!" Chris shouted, turning to try to help Alwynne get away from the birds that seemed hell bent on terrorizing her.
She was on the floor now cowering away from the ravens and screaming, "Chris!" she cried out desperately.
Chris turned to glare at the white-clad woman who was watching the whole scene with a dispassionate look. She shook her head sadly. "I did warn you that you should leave while my offer stood..." she paused and smiled, "…Chris."
The world around Chris rippled and even Alwynne vanished from his view. He panicked for a moment before a hazy sensation drifted over him like a fog. He blinked and jogged up the sidewalk towards the Manor. What had he been thinking? He'd just been standing there on the sidewalk, looking at the Manor in a stupor while the school bus pulled away. The thirtee--no, fourteen-year-old today--shifted his backpack to one shoulder and walked up the stairs to push open the front door.
"Hey, Mom, I'm home!" he called out, grinning at the balloons and streamers practically littering the house. His Aunt Paige had to have been partially responsible for that, it was way too over to top even by his mother's standards. "Gee, it looks like someone's having a birthday here or something."
Chris stepped inside, dropped his backpack next to the door and closed it behind him. Then he paused and a crease appeared in his forehead as a creepy case of déjà vu washed over him. What was going on? It was like this had happened before or something. He frowned noticing how deathly silent the house was. Home had always felt so safe for him and now there was this quietly growing sense of fear.
"Mom? Dad?" he called out again. Maybe his Dad wasn't home from Magic School yet, but his Mom ought to be there at least, shouldn't she? Chris walked further into his home feeling his trepidation growing. "Mom?"
The cheerful balloons and birthday streamers mocked the cold knot in the pit of his stomach. Wyatt wasn't home yet, wouldn't be home yet for several hours since he had some sort of student government meeting at the High School, but that didn't have anything to do with his parents not answering him. Chris stepped into the dining room and sucked in a sharp breath.
"Dad!" he yelled, seeing his father motionless on the floor with a growing pool of blood around him. Chris rushed in and dropped to his father's side. He lifted his face towards the ceiling and shouted at the top of his lungs, "PAIGE! Aunt Paige!!" Not his Dad, not his Dad… Chris was shaking as he checked for his father's pulse. Why wasn't his Aunt Paige answering? She always came immediately when he called. "Wyatt!!" he shouted next. Chris's chest felt tight. No, no, no… this wasn't happening…
Chris jumped up to his feet and ran towards the kitchen, panic stricken. His mom! "Mom!" Chris screamed out, hoping she would answer him. His heart felt like it was going to burst in his chest. This was the worst possible thing that he could have ever imagined. Chris slid into the kitchen and his whole world fell even further apart than it already had.
The kitchen was like a battleground. There were scorch marks on the walls; decorations torn from the ceiling lay scattered on the ground. There were two piles of ash on the floor right by the door and a third next to the island. Perfectly untouched, Chris's birthday cake sat on the island in festive opposition to the chaos. And there was blood… there was a lot of blood… Chris's eyes searched wildly around the room for his mother and then he spotted her.
When he did, he couldn't move at first. The fourteen-year-old stood paralyzed in the doorway with his blood running cold through his veins. "…mommy…" he breathed hoarsely. She wasn't moving, laying in a broken angle, pale. Still as death. "MOM!" the scream tore from Chris's lungs. "PAIGE! WYATT! PLEASE! I NEED YOU!" he shouted desperately. He rushed towards his mother and with trembling hands checked her pulse to. There, like his father's, but weak and fading. Chris licked his lips and held his hands over her wound. Heal. Heal! He commanded his trembling and terrified hands.
This wasn't happening, it couldn't be happening! Not again! Not again? The echoing thought sent shivers down his spine for a heartbeat until he snapped himself out of it. He had to save his parents, there had to be some way to save them. "WYATT!! Come on!" He didn't have time to wait. His parents didn't have time. Chris swallowed hard and orbed himself to the attic in front of the Book. There had to be something. He held his hands over it, flipping the pages frantically with telekinesis and finding nothing. "WYATT!! AUNT PAIGE!" he screamed again to no response. No jingling of orbs. Nothing. They were going to die. He was so useless! His parents were going to die…
The air in front of the podium shimmered and a trio of demons stood in front of Chris. The young witchlighter's eyes widened at seeing them. He wasn't thinking rationally. He could have flung the three of them against a wall. Done something. But he was terrified for his parents. The three demons all smiled evilly at the boy and Chris's blood turned to ice. He did the first thing that came to mind, he orbed to his mother's side again. "Mom," he whimpered, terrified tears rolling down his cheeks, "…please…"
The demons followed him, shimmering in front of him and his mother and standing in the growing pool of Piper Halliwell's blood. One of them held an athame in its hands, still stained with his parent's blood. Chris stared at it with eyes that were more blue than green, full of fear. He orbed himself and his mother to the dining room next to his father and laid a hand on his dad too. The three of them disappeared in a swirl of orbs again. He'd tried to orb them out of the house, but it was like there was something holding him there. Chris's heart pounded in his chest as instead he orbed them into the room he shared with Wyatt. What was happening? Why couldn't his Aunt or his brother hear his calls?
"Hang on, Mom, Dad, please hang o--ugh!" Chris gasped as he felt something strike against his back and it felt like ice slide between his ribs. His lips parted and he stared down at the front end of the long metal blade stained with his blood in a stupor. It slid back out and he fell forward on top of his parents. With the last of his draining strength, Chris orbed his parents to the basement to get them as far from the demons as he could.
"…Wyatt!" he croaked out desperately as he rocked back from his parents, thinking the cry would be in vain. Color was draining from his face, which was already pale from looking at his dying parents. Wyatt miraculously appeared in a swirl of orbs, looking frantic. "…save them Wyatt…" Chris choked out, trying to gasp in air through a punctured lung. He slumped to the ground as Wyatt immediately went to their parents, watching helplessly.
The golden glow sprung to Wyatt's hands as he held them over his father, and Leo gasped as life returned to him. Wyatt then moved to his mother, but the glow didn't leap to life immediately and Chris shivered. His mom couldn't die. She couldn't… he felt so cold… he couldn't lose his mom… The glow came to Wyatt's hands finally and after several long fearful moments, Piper gasped back to life too. "Chris…" Wyatt breathed, moving over his brother. The edges of Chris's vision were blackening, his parents were safe, they were going to be okay. Wyatt held his hands over his brother and healed him in time to see the three demons shimmer into the basement. Chris gasped, coughing as he sat up, then shrank back in fear.
Piper and Wyatt lifted their hands, but the demons disappeared before either of them could do anything.
Chris gasped, jerking upright from where he had apparently fallen on the barn floor in the throes on the nightmare. His hand went to his chest and he shivered when he felt that his shirt was clinging to him with dark sticky liquid around a hole in the shirt. There was no blemish on his skin though. But the effect was more than enough to cause his breath to hitch. He back peddled on the ground away from the woman in white. Chris's heart was thundering now as he stared at her in horror. Alwynne was on the ground sobbing behind him, curled into a ball in the fetal position. I can't orb… I can't orb… who was I kidding, I can't do this I… pull yourself together! Do something! What if my powers don't work? He had to listen to the inner-dialogue over the pounding of his heart.
The shadows that had formed behind her were practically black now, creeping along the ceiling, the walls like serpentine clouds of ebony. Chris swallowed hard again and squared his shoulders. There was only one way to find out if his powers worked here or not. Powers were tied to emotions, well, Chris had emotions in spades right that second. He swept his left hand across his body at the woman, attempting to channel his telekinesis.
The look of absolute shock that flooded her face as she went flying to the side to smack into one of the barn's beams told Chris that she had not seen it coming. He wanted to smile, but he didn't want to get too cocky. That and he was still too scared to even consider it. Instead he tugged on Alwynne's hand and ran forward towards the deepening shadows to run past the still recovering woman. Home, think about home. I just want to get home. As Chris and Alwynne stepped into the shadows he felt a rippling sensation take hold of them both.
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Piper stood at the sink in her kitchen Sunday afternoon, attempting to wash the dishes from lunch. They had all gone to the hospital again that morning until the regular afternoon break in visiting hours. Now her sisters and their families had all returned to their own homes for a little while, but had promised to return to the hospital that evening to check on Chris. Her father had gone to Phoebe's, but only after she had told him that she wanted some time alone with Leo and Wyatt.
Wyatt hadn't slept again last night. Piper knew it instinctively from the sluggish way her oldest boy moved and his red rimmed and tired eyes. She and Leo had tried to sit down with him and speak with him after the house was quiet and it was just the three of them. Wyatt had ended up asking if he could just go outside and get some air. She had let him. Now he was out on the front porch, brooding in a way that reminded her of someone else.
The eldest Halliwell caught her lip between her teeth and choked back a sob. She let the dish in her hand slip back into the soapy water and rested her hands on the sink to hang her head forward. She hadn't read a word of the book this morning, because Wyatt had wanted so badly to talk to Chris in hopes that doing so would help him wake up. He had finally run out of steam and he had gotten up to leave the room before he started crying all over again. Piper had only been able to watch him with the tragic knowledge that she didn't know a single thing to say to him to make it better. She didn't know that it would be better.
"I'm a failure as a mother," Piper whispered, her voice thick with emotion.
She felt a pair of strong hands snake around her waste and suddenly Leo's chin was resting on her shoulder, his cheek nuzzling against her. "Honey, don't say that. You're not a failure."
"Yes, I am," Piper sobbed softly, absorbing the comfort of her husband, "my baby is… is… in a coma… and Wyatt… oh, Wyatt… I can't even help him deal with it, because I can't deal with it. I'm a horrible mother. He needs me and I can't even support him because I'm having a break down. I can't do this Leo. I can't do this."
Leo's arms tightened supportively around her waist and Piper felt the warmth and moisture of her husband's tears dropping against her neck. "You're not a horrible mother Piper, whatever else, don't think that you're a horrible mother… we all just need to support each other. We will get through this."
"It's all my fault," the woman whispered, salty tears. She felt Leo draw back from her slightly in surprise and Piper trembled.
"Piper, you are not single handedly responsible for every horrible thing that happens," Leo breathed.
"I am responsible, Leo," Piper wept, "If I… if I hadn't let him play… if I hadn't… he…"
She turned around and leaned against her husband, desperately trying to draw strength from him, as she had always been able to in times of need. His strong arms wrapped with such tenderness around her and his head rested atop hers. "Shh…"
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Four months ago.
"Mom!" Chris's voice called as the door to the Manor was thrust open.
"She's in the kitchen," Leo said, taking in the sight of his dark-haired youngest son. Chris was covered head to toe in mud and grinning so broadly that his excitement couldn't help but be contagious. The boy quickly went running towards the kitchen, tracking mud behind him.
Leo shook his head and followed the cleat tracks. He was curious about the cause for this excitement that he bet had something to do with this year's football tryouts. When Leo rounded the corner to see the kitchen, Chris had already grabbed his mother in a muddy hug that caused Piper to squeak in surprise.
"Hey psycho! You could have waited until I finished parking the car before you jumped out," Wyatt's voice called as he entered the house. He stepped up behind his father a moment later. Wyatt was muddy and smiling too, but had at least had the sense to remove his shoes at the door. He had them in one hand, his football pads in the other.
"What is going on?" Piper demanded in wild-eyed bewilderment.
Chris set his mother down, but was far to excited to actually answer her question.
Lucky for him, Wyatt answered, rolling his eyes and smiling at the same time, "The coaches want to move him up to Varsity next year."
As Wyatt made the announcement, Chris produced a folded piece of paper that was only slightly smudged with mud and held it up triumphantly.
"I thought you had to be at least a junior or a senior to play Varsity," Piper said, confused. She wasn't the only one who was confused, Leo arched his eyebrows as well, waiting for further elaboration.
Chris unfolded his prize and held it towards his mother. "That," he announced proudly, grinning like a fool, "is what this permission slip is for! You sign that and I'll be the youngest starting quarterback to play for Baker High in twenty years."
Leo laughed, smiling proudly and clapped Chris on the shoulder. He looked towards Wyatt, "And what do you think about this?"
"I think it's great. He's certainly good enough. They wouldn't have asked if he wasn't. I say sign it," the older boy said with a grin.
Piper wrinkled her nose, and her forehead creased with worry, "I don't know. Most of the boys are at two or three years older and a lot bigger and--"
"Mom…" Chris complained, staring at her like he couldn't believe she was considering denying him this opportunity to shine. Not even Wyatt had been offered the chance from the coaches to move up to Varsity a year early. The younger Halliwell brother looked at his mother with pleading emerald eyes and an expression that said if she didn't sign the paper he would never forgive her.
Piper let out an exasperated sigh, "Oh, all right, hand me a--" suddenly there was a pen falling right into her hand before she could finish. Leo looked at Wyatt who was precariously close to laughing, "--pen." The woman shook her head and signed the form, handing it back to Chris.
"Yes!" the fifteen-year-old witchlighter shouted. He grabbed his mother in another muddy hug, kissing her cheek, "Thanks mom, you're the greatest! Can I use your phone Wy? Thanks!" Chris shouted without waiting for his brother to answer. Chris went tearing out of the kitchen and Leo was amazed that there had been a level of excitement beyond that with which Chris had first entered the Manor. "I can't wait to tell Caspian and Hayden!"
That was when Piper noticed the muddy tracks that her youngest had left through the entire house. Her lips thinned and her hands flew to her hips, "Christopher Perry Halliwell! Do not touch that phone until you clean up this mess!"
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"I should never have signed that permission slip, Leo," Piper's tearful voice was muffled against Leo's chest. Her hands clutched at his back as she let out the soft sobs. "He should have been playing with boys his own age… he… I should have told him no. Told him to wait another year… oh, Leo, it's all my fault…"
Leo took a hand to cup the back of her head, running his fingers through her hair, "Piper, you know if you had told him 'no', it would have broken his heart. You saw how excited he was about playing on the same team as Wyatt. So excited that he tracked mud through the house and into your kitchen?"
Piper's head moved up and down against Leo's chest, but tears were still running down her face. Leo held his wife tighter. He didn't want to say the thing that he was using to comfort himself - that this must have happened for a reason. There was a reason for everything. That was what Leo was using to hold himself together. There had to be a greater purpose for this. He couldn't think that this would happen if there weren't. He didn't want to lose his son again.
Leo also didn't want his wife to think this was her fault either. "Piper," he said, gently lifting her chin so that he could look in her chocolate brown eyes, "You know neither one of us could have denied him that opportunity… and look how amazing he's played. Every game he came home excited and talking our ears off. Would you have traded seeing the smile on his face?"
"Yes," Piper's emotion-cracked voice said with false firmness, "To keep him from getting hurt? Yes, Leo."
Leo looked at his wife skeptically, "Even if it meant him hating you and being completely miserable?"
Piper's lower lip quivered and more moisture glistened in her eyes as she looked up at Leo. He knew she wanted to say that she would gladly take him hating her and being miserable, even if it was a lie, but she couldn't lie to him. With a shaky breath, Piper leaned against him again and very softly said, "No… I wanted him to be happy…"
She wanted him to be happy, but she wanted with every fiber of her being for him to be safe too. Leo held his wife as she broke into uncontrollable sobs against his chest.
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Wyatt slid two dollars to the guy in the hospital cafeteria for the cup of coffee he'd gotten and walked away from the counter. He was so tired. Two nights without sleep was fighting to catch up with him and he was fighting to not let his exhaustion win out. He'd lost count of how many cups of coffee he had ingested. He walked past a mirror and winced at his appearance. His blonde hair was unkempt, his cheeks red and puffy and his eyes red rimmed while dark, haggard circles were showing underneath them. D.J. had been right when he'd seen him yesterday. Wyatt looked like crap. He felt like it too.
He turned to walk out of the cafeteria, taking a sip of his coffee and sucked in a breath in pain as he bumped right into someone and the hot liquid spilled down the front of his shirt. "Ow! Geeze, watch it!" Wyatt snapped, harshly.
The blonde witch blinked when he lifted his eyes from the dark stain on the front of his light blue shirt. He wasn't sure who he had expected to see standing there in front of him. Some stranger. Some Neanderthal jerk who didn't have the sense to look where they were going. One of the useless doctors around this stupid place who claimed there was nothing more they could do to help his brother. He didn't care that it had probably been mostly his fault, since he'd been the one too tired and too caught up in his emotional thoughts to pay attention.
The sandy-haired girl standing in front of him winced, "I am so sorry." She reached hastily into her purse and pulled out a wad of tissues, which she proceeded to use to blot at the stain, "Are you okay? I'm sorry, really I am. Did it burn you? My word, I'm such a horrible klutz."
Wyatt's urge to continue angrily lashing out at the reason he was now wearing his coffee instead of drinking it left. "Andrea?" he asked with an apologetic frown. He stopped her frantic hands from blotting the napkins against him by grabbing her wrist.
Andrea Payton went to the same school as he and Chris. She was in Wyatt's grade. They had gone to school together since she moved to San Francisco from Boston when they were in middle school. But until today she had never said two words to Wyatt before. Wyatt's friends all thought she was stuck up. Pretty, but stuck up. One of those untouchable types. She kept to herself. No one in Wyatt's social circles knew much of anything about her. And here she was in the hospital with tear-stained cheeks and apologizing to Wyatt for ruining his shirt and spilling his coffee.
She blinked up at him with red-rimmed, brown eyes. She pulled back from him, her cheeks flushing and holding coffee-soaked tissues in her hands. "Wyatt," Andrea said, recognizing him.
"You know my name?" Wyatt asked.
Andrea gave him a watery smile, "Everyone at school knows your name. You're the Student Body President… What're you doing here?"
"My little brother got hurt at the football game Friday night," Wyatt said, feeling the emotional turmoil rise up again at giving voice of it to another person. He didn't want to pry, but she looked almost as upset as he was, "You?"
"My Dad," she said, before quickly turning away and failing to elaborate.
Wyatt felt rather awkward about it and just quietly offered, "…sorry."
She looked back at him, rapidly blinking away tears, "I'm sorry about your shirt and your coffee… I'll get you another one."
"Don't worry about it," Wyatt told her, "I've only got a little bit of blood in my coffee stream. I probably really didn't need to dilute it any further. Too much caffeine isn't good for you anyway."
Andrea's lips curved upwards ever so slightly and she nodded to him. She quietly offered, "I'm sorry to hear about Chris. I hope he's going to be okay…"
Wyatt tightened his jaw for a moment and then cleared his throat so that he could actually speak without his voice breaking, "Yeah. Me too. I should get back... See you."
"See you," Andrea returned, moving towards the cafeteria's line.
Wyatt shook his head as he walked out of the cafeteria, muttering under his breath at himself, "A little bit of blood in your coffee stream?" He groaned and ran a hand through his hair. He should just leave the attempts at sarcasm to his brother. That was horrible. If Chris had been there, he probably would have agreed.
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Piper turned another page in the book so that she could continue reading. Wyatt was back in his seat on the opposite side of the bed, dutifully holding his brother's hand. He had returned from his coffee break with a large stain on the front of his shirt that he had only explained to Piper had happened because he wasn't paying attention. That really worried her. If he was too tired not to avoid running into people and spilling coffee on himself, what would happen if a demon tried to attack. She didn't say that to him though, it would only make him upset and cause him to be even more stubborn about it.
He could barely keep his eyes open and the worried mother could see it. At this rate, he was going to wind up in the hospital too. She blew out a breath and continued from the book. It was one of Chris's (and Wyatt's) favorite scenes. Where the Man in Black had his sword fight with Inigo Montoya.
"'I have my breath back now,' the man in black said from the rock. 'Thank you for allowing me my rest.'
'We'd best get on with it then,' Inigo replied.
The man in black stood.
'You seem a decent fellow,' Inigo said. 'I hate to kill you.'
'You seem a decent fellow,' answered the man in black. 'I hate to die.'
'But one of us must,' Inigo said. 'Begin.'
And so saying he took the six-fingered sword.
And put it into his left hand.
He had begun all his duels left-handed lately. It was good practice for him, and although he was the only living wizard in the world with his regular hand, the right, still, he was more than worthy with his left. Perhaps thirty men alive were his equal with his left. Perhaps as many as fifty; perhaps as few as ten.
The man in black was also left-handed and that warmed Inigo; it made things fairer. His weakness against the other man's strength. All to the good.
They touched swords, and the man in black immediately began the Agrippa defense, which Inigo felt was sound, considering the rocky terrain, for the Agrippa kept the feet stationary at first, and made the chances of slipping minimal. Naturally, he countered with Capo Ferro which surprised the man in black, but he defended well, quickly shifting out of Agrippa and taking the attack himself, using the principles of Thibault.
Inigo had to smile. No one had taken the attack against him in so long and it was thrilling! He let the man in black advance, let him build up his courage, retreating gracefully between some trees, letting his Bonetti defense keep him safe from harm.
Then his legs flicked and he was behind the nearest tree, and the man in black had not expected it and was slow reacting. Inigo flashed immediately out from the tree, attacking himself now, and the man in black retreated, stumbled, got his balance, continued moving away.
Wyatt was looking from his brother to the beeping monitor that showed the younger boy's vital signs while Piper read. She followed his gaze and paused her reading momentarily. Chris's pulse rate had started to speed up and she looked worriedly towards him, with much the same worried look that Wyatt had. The dark-haired teen's pulse continued to race faster, causing the beeps coming from the monitor to come more rapidly.
Wyatt looked towards his mother, a quiver of fear in his voice, "…mom?"
Piper didn't know. It scared her that she didn't know what was happening or could be causing her son's pulse to skyrocket out of control like that. One of the nurses stepped into the room in response to the change in Chris's vitals. Wyatt didn't want to leave Chris's side, but the nurse motioned him away, as she leaned over the younger teen to check him over. The nurse was checking to see if there was some misreading in the machines by checking Chris's pulse herself and Piper didn't like the worried frown that the woman wore when she did that.
"What's going on?" Piper asked with a finger tucked in the book; marking the page she'd been on. She watched in worry as the nurse reached up to adjust Chris's IV. As the nurse was reaching to increase it, Chris's pulse began to drop back to normal on its own. The nurse drew her hand back and stepped back.
"I'm sure everything is fine Ms. Halliwell," the nurse said, "I'll speak with the doctor about it."
"Could it mean he's waking up?" Wyatt asked. He had moved over next to his mother while the nurse was checking Chris, but now that she was backing up Wyatt was moving back towards his spot.
"Why did his pulse begin to race like that?" Piper asked the nurse.
The nurse frowned, "I actually don't have an answer for you, I'm afraid. But it's dropping back to normal now. It may have just been a dream he was having, or a response to your voices. I'll mention it to the doctor, but I wouldn't be worried about it. If you need anything, I'll be right outside."
Piper and Wyatt watched the nurse notate something on Chris's chart and then she stepped out of the room. Wyatt sank back into his chair and took Chris's hand back into his. Piper could see more worry in her eldest son's tired blue eyes.
"…she didn't answer my question…" Wyatt mumbled, sitting back down.
Piper moistened her lips and then weakly smiled down at the pages of the book. Maybe it was just the book and he was hearing her. When they had been little and she had read this part, even when Chris was sick he would sit up on the edge of the bed grinning feverishly. Well, if it was working, she wasn't going to stop.
She continued reading the sword fight, and once Wyatt had calmed down from the momentary leap of worry-mingled-hope that had been on his face he exhaustedly rested his arms on the side of Chris's bed and lay his head on them. He was still holding Chris's hand. Piper could see Wyatt's eyelids getting heavy again when she looked up between paragraphs.
"The death moment was at hand now. Again and again Inigo thrust forward, and again and again the man in black managed to ward off the attacks, but each time it was harder, and the strength in Inigo's wrists was endless and he only thrust more fiercely and soon the man in black grew weak. 'You cannot tell it,' he said then, 'because I wear a cape and mask. But I am smiling now.'
'Why?'
'Because I'm not left-handed either,' said the man in black.
And he too switched hands, and now the battle was finally joined."
Piper stopped her reading again when she heard the soft sounds coming from her exhausted eldest child. He was asleep, with his head leaned on Chris's hospital bed. She smiled sadly at him.
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Chris panted as he looked around them. The Manor attic. It had worked! And the Daughter of Nightmares was no where to be seen. He released Alwynne's hand and raced towards the stand where the Book of Shadows should have been.
"Where are we?" Alwynne asked, looking around them with wide eyes.
"My home. Safest place I know. More specifically the attic of my home…" Chris explained. His heart sank when he looked at the podium. The Book wasn't there. He grabbed the stand and stared at the empty space. "…it's not here…"
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Author's Note: Heehee! Another chapter finished. You know the drill. Write me a review and tell me what you think!