The Scorpion's Nature

"I would like to help somehow," Hand said after a long moment of consideration.

They were sitting around the kitchen table – all five of them, since the sisters seemed to have decided that Hand was one of their 'innocents' once and for all -, nursing hot drinks of various types.

Really, Chris thought with a faint echo of his usual annoyance, they were turning into a coffee shop, what with Piper's herbal tea, Phoebe's latte macchiato, his own strong black coffee and Paige's he-didn't-even-want-to-know. This sort of extravagance irritated him even after the year that he'd been living in the past, especially since the sisters seemed to take it all for granted.

But that wasn't his problem right now.

The girl sitting among them, clutching a simple mug of coffee as strong as his, however, was. And she was giving him a headache.

He had accepted that Hand obviously had no interest in killing him or the sisters, really, he had, but that didn't mean that they should trust her completely! You couldn't simply assume that an ally's moral code was the same as yours just because he didn't kill you.

Chris had worked with demons in the past, had been forced to, there had even been a memorable episode with him leading a contingent of darklighters, but that had only made him more sensitive to the difficulties of such situations.

No kind treatment would make her follow the sisters' moral code indefinitely. If she stuck to their methods, she'd only do so because she wanted to, and there would come a moment, no matter what Hand herself might think, when the old routines would snap back into place, and then they'd have an assassin on their hands.

Even though said assassin was being fed with muffins and strawberries right now. Even though she looked like an overgrown child in the too large shirt Paige had given her.

"We won't let you use your magic, Hand," Chris said when it became clear that none of the sisters would make that point. Piper even looked at him critically for saying it, as if he had been insensitive.

"Perhaps she could help with the potions brewing," Paige offered. "I mean, a store of potions would be good if we're going against Gideon, wouldn't it?"

"Sure," Phoebe agreed readily and Piper nodded. Chris chose not to mention that he wouldn't let an assassin brew with poisonous ingredients in his own kitchen if his life was at stake, but they wouldn't listen to him anyway, and he'd had quite enough critical glares for today.

"As long as she still takes the magic-suppressant, is guarded by one of us and stays in the cellar at night," he agreed after a moment.

Piper rolled her eyes.

"Yes, Chris," she said with barely conceived irritation. "Anything else you want us to do?"

"Yes, actually," he answered, letting his own irritation show. "You can start planning. Going after an Elder isn't the same as cornering a demon, you know? As you are obviously rested enough to chat, you could start reading up on their defences and weaknesses, or you cold…"

"Or, since it'll be weeks 'til we can do anything against him, as you told us yesterday, I could use the time to be close to my son," Piper interrupted him.

Like always, that word stung like a pin being jammed into his heart, but, like always, Chris ignored it.

"We can't start soon enough," he protested. "We'll only have one chance to get it right, and if he manages to escape, it could be months until we find him again!"

"It will go just fine, Chris," Phoebe said in that soothing tone of hers that always infuriated Chris. 'Cause it hadn't gone fine in the end, had it? Would she still be so complacent if she knew that she'd die, barely sixteen years from now, trying in vain to defend her daughters?

Would she still pat his hand and tell him that there were other important things in life? Sometimes, the urge to tell them about the future nearly overwhelmed him, but as they did every time, the possible consequences of changing the future stopped him.

They didn't stop him from scolding, though.

"You don't know that," he said, his voice rising against his will. "Elders are clever, they're very old and extremely powerful. We'll need every minute of the next weeks to prepare for this, and if you start chickening out of work already…"

"Oh, Chris, come on! Get a life!" Paige growled, rising from the table and refilling her coffee. She didn't even bother looking at him as she echoed the sisters' favourite sentence. Chris fervently wished that she was a member of his Resistance so that he could give her a dressing-down.

I had a life, he wanted to tell her, a bloody brilliant life, despite all the demons and a non-existent father. But then you all died and left me, and Wyatt turned the world into chaos, and now there's no one else left to make it right again.

But instead of yelling, he stopped himself, as he had done so many times before, and restricted himself to an irritated eye-roll, his usual answer.

That was when he saw the confusion on Hand's face.

"Get a life?" She asked slowly, clearly never having come across that expression before. Slang had changed considerably over the past twenty years, and somehow Chris doubted that Hand had spent much time with non-magical humans while growing up.

Chris smirked, working hard to keep the bitterness out of his face and voice.

"She means that I should stop working and worrying all the time," he explained. "And especially nagging them about doing the same. Instead I should – what was it again, Paige?" He cocked his head in a good imitation of the wide-eyed innocence that had always worked on Paige, back before she died and he stopped being innocent.

Paige shrugged. "Dunno," she answered, not bothering to hide how little this discussion interested her. "Sleep in, eat more, go for walks, go on dates – whatever floats your boat, Chris."

Chris opened his mouth to reply something sarcastic – something very sarcastic – but Hand beat him to it.

"That sounds wonderful," she said seriously, her voice filled with longing, and Chris felt an answering pang, an echo pain that made him remember how often he had prayed for this, for just one day of peace, one day without the weight of the future on his shoulders. That had been before he had stopped praying for anything, of course.

"Getting a life," Hand continued. "So you could take a break and the sisters would take over for you?"

Chris took one look at Hand's serious, another at Paige's flabbergasted face, and just couldn't help himself. He let his head fall back and laughed, roared with laughter, loud and clear and very amused. He could feel all eyes in the kitchen swivel towards him, but didn't care. This was a moment to be savoured.

"No," he finally managed between gasps of laughter. "That's not what Paige had in mind, I'm afraid."

Hand was the only one in the room who had simply taken his outburst in stride. Chris supposed it was the result of spending too much time around madmen like Wyatt, but there wasn't much that could surprise her.

"But who else is there to do your work?" She asked, her confusion deepening.

Paige sighed, her expression clearly saying God, we have another workaholic on our hands, and answered patiently: "The point is that no one should work all the time. Even witches need to balance their life a bit, have fun now and then, you know? And although Chris seems unable to understand it, there are things more important than Chris' work."

Now, Hand was staring at Paige, wide-eyed, as if she had just said the craziest thing ever.

"No," Hand answered, speaking very slowly, as if to a small child. "There aren't. Fox is trying to save the world. What could be more important than that?"

Chris felt something warm spread through his body, a strange mixture of pride and gratefulness, the knowledge that yes, someone knew what he was doing, and yes, someone cared.

Then, Piper spoke up. "I know, honey," She told Hand. "And don't think that we take our job as witches lightly. I can't count how often we have saved this city from evil, but even if we fail now and then, we have to remind ourselves that it's not the end of the world!"

Hand half turned towards Chris, sending him a look that spelled something like Are they really this stupid? Or perhaps it was How do you deal with them?, and Chris found it wise to end this discussion.

"You need another dose of the magic blocker," he told Hand in his command voice, and unlike the sisters, she reacted immediately. Carefully draining the last drop of coffee – one never knew when one would next get something as precious as real coffee -, she rose from her chair quickly and left the kitchen through the cellar door without another word.

Again, the sisters looked baffled, as if the thought of following Chris' orders without arguing had never even occurred to them. It probably hadn't, Chris thought ruefully as he surveyed them, but still he couldn't help himself.

"You three really should start planning," he advised them, ignored their eye-rolls and followed Hand into the cellar.

In the Spartan surroundings of her prison cell, Chris allowed himself a deep, calming breath.

"You mustn't expect them to understand," he then said. "And you mustn't try to explain, Hand."

Hand sat quietly on her cot, hands folded neatly on her knees, and nodded without meeting his eyes. Something in her posture of acceptance touched him, perhaps because it was so wholly out of character for her. She was a fighter, after all, like Bianca, and Bianca would never have accepted anyone telling her what to do or to say. She'd questioned his commands and offered alternatives, and although she'd had a hard time with the other Resistance members at first, who took her for nothing but a demon, she'd never backed down once.

But for some reason unfathomable to Chris, Hand was obeying his rules and commands, she had risked her life coming to the past and again this afternoon, saving his mother and himself. She was following orders as if he were her general. And up until now, she had asked for nothing in return.

"Thank you," he found himself saying, quite without planning to do so. He wasn't sure what he was thanking her for – her trip to the past, Piper's safety, or her defending his mission just a minute ago. But he didn't want to become Wyatt, who took obedience as something natural.

Her head rose in surprise, and her eyes were disbelieving as they met his, unguarded.

"I don't…" she began, then trailed off, obviously not sure what to say.

He waited for her to continue, but she didn't, just returned to her silent posture of waiting.

"Look" he then said, keeping one eye on the cellar door while he spoke. They'd have to have this conversation eventually, but he didn't want the sisters to barge in and learn things they really didn't need to know. "I still don't get why you are doing this. I can see no reason why you should have given up your position as Wyatt's right hand just to help me along, and I can't imagine why you risked your life just now, but I'm beginning to believe that you truly mean to help me. So thank you for that."

Now she looked positively shocked.

"But you must understand that I can't trust you," he continued. "Not yet, at least. Perhaps never. And if you want to stay here and help, there are a few ground rules that you'll have to follow, or this thing'll be over before you can say 'Lord Wyatt'. Is that clear?"

Again, she nodded, and again he found himself wishing that the sisters would behave just a little bit more like her.

"So, rule one: Never ever harm the sisters or Leo or Wyatt, or I'll stop your heart without asking questions. Rule two: Don't harm or kill anyone else unless I tell you to or they are attacking the sisters or Wyatt. Is that clear?"

Another nod, and Chris just hoped that she would stick to these rules. She couldn't possibly understand the intricacies of present-day life, and he really didn't want a dead postman on his hands. Though he wouldn't mind if Greg the fireman bled a bit.

"Number Three: Don't even try to play or trick us, Hand. Believe me, I'll know the signs, and I won't hesitate to deal with you if you're trying to fool us. Four: Don't tell the sisters anything about the future they don't already know. That includes my identity and Wyatt's actions, and especially what will happen to them. I'm serious about that: I don't want them to know."

He saw something like curiosity creep into her face. Clearly, she had questions. But again she simply nodded and lowered her head, an obedient little dog.

Chris sighed.

"And this is my last rule: You're not with Wyatt anymore. It's allowed to ask questions. I'm sure that Bianca told you how we handled things in the Resistance. Even if I'm your leader and you'll obey my rules, you can still discuss things with me. I won't punish you for asking."

For one moment, the whole madness of his situation rose before Chris' eyes.

Three days ago, his life had been normal – well, if you could call time travel, constant demon hunts and living undercover with your family that had yet to learn you would ever exist normal.

But now, he was the only witch with an active power in the house, he'd been handed the answer to his search on a plate, and was teaching Wyatt's most dangerous assassin the principles of freedom of speech. He shook his head in consternation. Fate really had it in for him.

"Why do you not tell them?"

Hand's question caught him by surprise, lost as he was in his own thoughts.

"Tell who what?" He asked absently while wondering how something like this had happened to him, again. Bianca would have laughed her ass off, if she'd been here, and cracked a joke about how Chris stole all of Wyatt's girls.

"Tell the sisters," Hand said. "Why you are doing this. Who you really are."

Chris' breath caught in his chest. How easy one forgot, living in tyranny, that freedom of speech had its drawbacks.

"It's easier," he answered shortly, his eyes once more on the door to the cellar. He'd not risk them finding out. "If they knew, they'd try to draw me in closer and watch my every step. I couldn't make half the trips to the underworld. Plus, revealing they'd have a second son before they'd even conceived me really would freak mum out."

"But they'd help you," Hand argued. She was catching on to freedom of speech real fast.

For a moment, Chris wondered if he should end the conversation. But then he'd probably lose any chance of Hand opening up to him, and that was a necessity if he wanted to find out her real agenda. Talking it was, then.

"Perhaps," he answered. "Or they'd be even more insistent that I enjoy life and concentrate on the good things."

The words sounded bitter even to him.

Hand slowly nodded, understanding growing on her face.

"And then you'd have to explain why you couldn't," she said slowly. "Not with that kind of future waiting for you."

Yeah. Real fast. Again, the memory of the Event rose before his eyes, and again, it took all of Chris' determination to force it back into the dark caves of his mind.

"How did you get out of the crystal cage, anyway," he then asked, because it was an important question, not because he desperately wanted to change the topic.

Hand shrugged, then stretched out her leg and rolled up the sweatpants Paige had given to her. A nasty burn covered most of her foot and lower leg, stretching up to her thigh. Chris had received enough energy-ball-burns to know that this one had to hurt like a bitch. But Hand didn't show any pain.

"It's easy," she answered his question, and rolled the trouser leg carefully down. "You just have to want it hard enough."

And Chris couldn't help himself but chuckle softly.

"Yeah. I guess I can relate to that," he said.