Note: Apologies in advance for any typos/weird mistakes! This was a really hard chapter to write, and I've been obsessing over it pretty much since I started the story, but I wanted to make sure to have it up before the work week started so I didn't have time to do my usual extra edits.

Paige couldn't breathe.

She could feel Phoebe's frantic grip on her arm, Henry's comforting hand on her back, but it was all so far away—she couldn't really see anything past her nephew's wary green gaze.

They had learned of Chris's death two years earlier. They had been in the Underworld, collecting ingredients for protection potions, when a demon had casually mentioned the fortuitous death of Christopher Halliwell. He had been happy to recount for them, in great detail, how Perry had sliced the boy open with a cursed athame just days after his eighteenth birthday.

It had been such a strange thing to listen to: it had been like that demon was talking about some other Christopher Halliwell.

It wasn't that the remaining good Halliwells had not expected something like this to happen, because they had. Paige had even almost killed Chris herself, though the moment still haunted her dreams and she had wished many times to take it back. They had long been expecting to hear Piper's boys had been killed, that all that magic they had wielded had finally turned against them.

Paige and Phoebe had been devastated, of course, at the young life cut so short, but they had gone on without much ceremony. They had given up Chris years before his death, so they did not exactly have to grieve. They had grieved already for their clever little nephew, for his innocence. They had grieved for years.

But Lord Christopher was dead, and there was nothing they could do about that. They had to focus on the children they could still save.

Which was why she couldn't breathe, now that he was standing right in front of her, so very alive. He was still the very image of his mother, and the way he was standing, the way he held his jaw, it reminded her so much of the Piper she had first met—the Piper that had been so lost in anger over the death of Prue that the only thing she remembered how to do was fight.

"Chris?" Phoebe asked, her voice caught somewhere between hope and disbelief. "What…what is this? You…you're working for Perry now?"

Paige watched Chris carefully. He kept pulling his eyes away, like he couldn't bear to look at them. She remembered him kneeling in front of her, on the other side of the cell Wyatt had put her in, begging her to blame Perry for the prisoner's escape.

Don't bother trying to take credit for this with me, he'd told her. I know Perry doesn't have anything to do with you.

Oh god, she thought, no. He couldn't be. He couldn't be, because that would mean—

"Phoebe, I think he is Perry," Henry said gently, from behind them. He was watching Chris shrewdly, having arrived to the same conclusions that Paige was trying so hard to avoid.

Chris glanced up at that, looking at his uncle. Henry had always been quick at putting the pieces together. He'd been one of the first to realize something was wrong with Wyatt, too, the day his brother had come home from taking the world.

"That's not possible," Paige denied instantly, even as everything started to fall into place. She tried not to notice Chris's flinch. "Perry's been around almost since the beginning, and Chris—"

"And Chris has been fighting against Wyatt since the moment he joined him," Bianca snapped, glancing at Paige scornfully, no longer able to keep quiet. "He just did it a lot smarter than anyone else was doing it, which is why he wasn't ever caught."

"Bianca," Chris warned quietly, squeezing her hand before letting it go. He stepped forward, and Paige stepped back, dragging Phoebe with her. He paused, masking his hurt with a shake of his head before looking up to meet Phoebe's eyes. "I didn't kill Prue," he told her. "If you don't believe anything else, please, just…believe that."

Phoebe rushed forward, and Bianca tensed, prepared to fight—but all the older woman did was throw her arms around Chris. Phoebe was a powerful empath, so even if she hadn't believed the words, she couldn't deny the truth. She could feel all of his love and guilt and determination, and she knew he wasn't what they'd thought. That he wasn't like Wyatt, after all.

"I never should have doubted you," Phoebe whispered, pressing her eyes shut as she tightened her grip. "Prue never did."

Chris stood awkwardly in her embrace, his hands hanging at his sides, uncertain how to respond. He hadn't really had a hug since before he was sixteen years old—he shared a lot of things with Bianca, but they weren't really the hug type. Not hugs like the kind his mother and Phoebe always used to give him, like she was giving him now.

He glanced at Bianca for help, but she just shrugged helplessly. She wasn't any better at hugs than him.

"Um," Chris started awkwardly, trying to think of a way to politely disentangle himself just as Phoebe's voice hitched into a sob.

She finally pulled back then, though she kept hold of his arms, her eyes searching his. "Prue always said you only went with Wyatt because you knew you were the only one that could hold him back."

"Yeah, that was sort of the grand plan," Chris said wryly, gently stepping back, out of Phoebe's hold. "Only I wasn't as good at it as I thought I'd be."

"You're the one that released those prisoners," Paige said, her voice sounding hollow and flat. She should be happy, she realized distantly. Even if she disregarded the fact that this meant they had one of their family back, and not just from the dead, but back on the right side—this also meant they'd just gained a very powerful ally in a dangerous war.

She should be ecstatic. She should be like Phoebe, and reaching out to hug him. Except she really just felt disoriented, and strangely terrified. Because if Chris was the hero…then what the hell did that make her?

"I had help, but yeah," Chris said after a moment. "Sorry you got blamed for it. I would have confessed, but—well, it was brought to my attention that Wyatt might not actually have believed me, considering where he'd found you."

"But you saved them," Paige said, feeling something loosen inside her, as something else started to tighten around her heart. History was rewriting itself in her mind, and she didn't know whether or not to be grateful or heartbroken.

"I just did what I could. It wasn't much," Chris said, then looked down at the ground with a sigh. "I know this is a lot to take in. I know you probably don't know what to—"

"You were coming to save us," Paige continued, as though Chris hadn't spoken. "The day Prue died. You were there because you were trying to help."

And I almost killed you, she didn't say.

Phoebe finally seemed to be understanding that as wonderful as this revelation was, things might be just a bit too broken to fix, and had gone dangerously pale as she remembered just how that day had ended.

"Paige," Henry said softly, and she didn't know if he was trying to comfort her, or warn her to keep her from saying something she'd regret, from doing something else she couldn't take back.

Paige and Henry had always been closest to Chris. He was their favorite nephew, even though they weren't supposed to have favorites. It was sort of an unspoken truth. Wyatt had never seemed to mind it. He'd always been happier off on his own.

But Chris, he had always been around. Reading over her shoulder. Asking to learn her newest potion. Slipping into Henry's office and reading parole files when he shouldn't. It was why his betrayal had always hurt so much more than Wyatt's.

Paige felt her heart get a kick-start, and she gasped as she finally started taking in air. Chris had been protecting them, all along, and the last of her denials started to slip away. The truth was she had her suspicions that Chris was not as far gone as Wyatt long before this, but she had still never suspected this.

"Maybe we should head inside," Bianca suggested gently, warily watching the wards surrounding them. "We can—"

"You were there to help. Weren't you?" Paige demanded, ignoring Bianca, her eyes locked on Chris, determined to have an answer.

"Yes," Chris answered softly, and he sounded so young she thought her heart would break all over again.

Paige probably would have collapsed if Henry hadn't been behind her, propping her up, because that was admission she had both longed for and feared. That was the truth she had been worrying over for years. She would still dream of it, of finding Chris leaning over Prue, his fingers wrapped around the hilt of that bloody athame, tugging it back out.

She had been so certain, in that moment, and then Wyatt had arrived, and Chris had pulled him away, and that certainty had fled, because—

"Your orbs were white," Paige whispered.

Chris glanced at her, furrowing his brow. "What?"

"It always bothered me," she explained, stepping closer, away from Henry's comforting support. This time it was Chris who stumbled back from her, looking wary. "When you orbed Wyatt away, before he could kill us, your orbs were white. If you'd murdered an innocent, they should have been black."

Paige glanced up at him, tears forming in her eyes, though she did not let them fall. "I couldn't understand why they were still white, but I don't think I wanted to. I wanted so much to be mad at you, because the only other option was that I'd almost killed you when you didn't deserve it." She broke away from his gaze, blinking over at the wall. "So I kept telling myself that maybe because the Elders were gone, the old rules of magic didn't apply. …but the truth is, I knew. I knew the moment you orbed away what I'd nearly done."

"I know what it looked like, and you did what you thought you had to. I forgave that a long time ago," Chris said simply, "and none of that matters now. We have bigger problems."

"Yes, we do," Bianca agreed, not liking being in the open, even behind the powerful wards. "So we should go inside. Chris?"

"Right, follow me," Chris said, reaching out to snag Bianca's hand and tug her along behind him towards the doors. He pushed inside the gymnasium, his family warily following along behind him.

Daniel rushed up to him right away. "Perry! Where the hell did you go, we've still got—" he broke off, his eyes widening as he caught sight of the Charmed Ones. "Oh. Never mind. Carry on."

"You're the Whitelighter," Paige said.

"And you're the one that judo-kicked me out of your head," Daniel said. "Thanks for the migraine, hadn't had one since I've been dead." Then he winced. "Sorry. That was rude. I've been living with Perry for years, I'm afraid he's rubbed off on me. I'm actually really nice. Well, I used to be. I mean, I died and became an angel, so obviously I did something right."

"Daniel," Chris said warningly.

"Right. I'm just gonna go," he said, before glancing at Chris. "You think it's safe to start bringing everyone back?"

Chris nodded. "And find Gracie," he called, as Daniel disappeared in a wash of orbs.

Paige fidgeted as the gazes of the remaining Resistance members all turned their way. They were being watched with a strange mixture of awe and fear, and it wasn't what Paige was used to.

Then again, she hadn't really been around other good witches since the end of the world. It had been safer for everyone involved to just avoid them.

"They look like they hate us," Phoebe muttered, wrapping her arms around herself. "And the fear—I think I'm gonna be sick."

"You've done a lot of good for the world, but you also had a part in creating Wyatt," Bianca told them, her tone unsympathetic. She ran her eyes over Paige assessing. "Halliwells aren't exactly considered heroes, these days."

"They're not looking at you like that," Henry said knowingly, looking over at Chris.

"Well, I'm not exactly a Halliwell," Chris answered, without meeting their eyes. "Not anymore."

"Because to them you're just Perry," Phoebe said, watching him closely. "Where did you come up with that, anyway?"

"Ps are for protection in our family, right?" he asked, leading the way further into the room. "I figured I could use all the help I could get. Perry means wanderer, traveler. Stranger. And when I named myself, I was lost." Chris glanced over at his aunts. "I've been Perry just as much as Chris since Wyatt took over."

Henry's eyes lit up, and he gave his nephew a faint grin. "So basically, you've been a double-agent," he said.

"Well, sort of, but not anymore," Chris said, glancing back distractedly. "Wyatt thinks I'm dead, so I'm hardly much use as an inside man at the moment."

"Why does Wyatt think you're dead?" Phoebe asked. "And come to think of it—the rumors were that Perry killed you. How does that work? How did you…kill yourself?"

Chris shrugged, pushing his way into his office, with his family following close behind. "I couldn't stay there any longer, I promised Prue," he said. "And Wyatt would never have let me walk away, so Bianca and I staged my death."

"Prue," Phoebe whispered. "You spoke to her, you—"

"Yes," he said shortly. "I tried—I was too late. But I spoke to her. She wasn't alone."

Phoebe seemed to take some comfort in that, at least. Chris wished he could tell her more, but there wasn't much good to say about the way his cousin had died in his arms.

"How are the rest of the kids?" he forced himself to ask, afraid what the answer might be.

"Henry Jr. and Parker are safe," Phoebe told him. "They're with Coop."

He knew what that meant—what she hadn't said. Henry Jr. and Parker were safe, which meant Paige's twins weren't. Chris shored up his heart against the knowledge, and didn't allow his expression to change at all. There were only four of them left, then. He didn't ask how the twins had died. He didn't want to know, because Wyatt was probably to blame.

"We took them to—" Phoebe started.

"Don't tell me where they are," Chris broke in quickly. "It's safer for them if I don't know."

Phoebe seemed startled, but nodded. She had been an empath long enough she had learned to block people's emotions out, but with family it was always harder, and Chris's emotions were strong. It was like a storm being held back by a thin veil. It seemed ridiculous, standing there now, to think she had ever believed he could have joined with Wyatt.

"You really never believed in him, did you?" she asked quietly.

"No, but I knew he would never listen to reason," Chris says. "I had to make a split-second decision. I could side with you and we'd all get cast out, or I could play the long game and try to help him change from the inside."

"You were sixteen," Paige said, her voice still simmering with restrained anger. "You should have let us handle it."

Beside Chris, Bianca tensed, her eyes narrowing. She clenched her hands to fists, but didn't speak.

"You couldn't have done what had to be done," he said, utterly certain. "You couldn't have sat there beside him and watch what he'd become and still pretend."

"And how could you?" she demanded, though the anger seemed to have left her voice, leaving only desperation.

"Because I didn't have any other choice," Chris said, pointing abruptly back towards the gymnasium. "Those are people that I've freed from Wyatt's dungeons, or convinced him to spare. Maybe it would have been more honorable to stand up to Wyatt from the beginning and tell him exactly what I thought of his master plan, but if I had I'd probably be dead. And so would they. So you can go ahead and criticize my methods as much as you like, I won't ever regret them."

He sighed, tearing his eyes away from his devastated family. He didn't want to make things even worse, but he knew there was no making this better. "Wyatt is too powerful to take head on," he continued, his voice softer. "If he sees you coming, he takes you out. Simple as that. We're not exempt from that, he'd kill any of us just as easily."

"Not any of us. Not you," Phoebe said softly. "I don't think he could kill you. I felt him, that day when Paige—well, just trust me on this. I don't think he could."

Chris bit his lip. "Maybe not," he agreed. "But there are plenty of worse things he could do to me. I've seen them done. I know better than anyone what he's capable of."

Paige didn't need Phoebe's power to sense Chris's lingering resentment, and she narrowed her eyes. "You say you've forgiven me, forgiven all of us, and god knows, Chris, you're obviously a talented liar," she said. "But do you really expect me to believe that?"

"Paige," Henry said gently, reaching out to try and pull her back. She stepped out of his reach, pushing forward angrily, and Bianca straightened tensely beside Chris.

"Not another step," the assassin warned.

Paige stopped, glancing at her in irritation, and Chris just sighed. "What do you want me to say?" he asked her. "I knew what I was doing when I left. I knew exactly how much it would cost me."

"Did you really?" Paige asked. "Did you ever think about what it would cost the rest of us?"

Chris let out a broken laugh, before glancing away. "I think maybe the real question here, Paige, is whether or not you've forgiven me."

"I'm not sure," Paige said hesitantly. "I do know that I'll never forgive myself."

"Yeah," Chris agreed. "I probably won't forgive myself, either. So we can agree on that, at least."

Paige started to take another step, and Bianca shimmered from her place beside Chris, appearing directly in front of the younger Charmed One. She had an athame in her hand, held level with her chest, ready to strike.

"Take one more step," she said calmly. "Go ahead. Try it."

"Bianca," Chris sighed, rubbing at his forehead, looking put-out. He reacted as though Bianca was just being mildly rude, rather than threatening to kill his aunt, and Paige tried not to take too much offense at his unconcern.

The truth was, Chris wasn't worried because he knew Bianca would never hurt Paige, because that would hurt him. His aunts, however, did not know that, and this wasn't exactly the best first impression for his wife-to-be to be making.

Paige glanced angrily up at Chris. "You want to call off the guard dog, maybe?"

"She's my fiancé, actually," he said, his eyes flashing in anger. "And she doesn't answer to me."

Paige looked at Bianca in surprise. "You're engaged to a demon?" she demanded.

"She's not a demon, she's a Phoenix," Chris corrected, stepping up beside her, and gently lowering her hand. He only managed it because Bianca reluctantly let him. "Good and Evil may not be non-existent as Wyatt believes, but they're certainly not as clear cut as the Elders would have liked us to think. Because there are good witches on Wyatt's side and demons on mine."

He bit his lip, tapping a foot impatiently. "Look, we have enough problems without fighting with each other," he said. "We're all on the same side. We need each other, so we might as well try to get along. I meant it when I said I forgive you, so let's just move on."

"If you really don't blame us, then why…why haven't you tried to contact us before now?" Phoebe asked. "Surely you must have known we were trying to find Perry. I mean. You. We were trying to find you."

"Yes," Chris admitted. "But you were safer if you didn't."

"Then why come to us now?" Paige asked shrewdly.

"Because you're not safe anywhere anymore," Chris said bluntly. "Wyatt's putting his full attention into finding you, and whatever you've done, however you've managed to block him until now, he will find a way past it. He will find you."

"What's happened?" Phoebe asked with a frown.

"He's trying to raise the dead," Bianca said simply. "He plans to use your blood to do it."

"Oh," Phoebe said faintly. "So not good then."

"He's trying to bring you back," Paige said, her eyes on Chris. "Isn't he?"

"Yes," Chris admitted. "But I won't let it get that far."

"Your aunts are in danger either way," Bianca said. "He wants them dead. That doesn't have anything do with you."

"She's right," Paige said. "This isn't your fault."

"Yeah, well, it's not that simple," Chris said. "Whatever you think of it, the back-up plan has to be that I surrender to Wyatt."

The whole room started protesting at once, and Chris winced. He wasn't used to having people worry about him other than Bianca, and she only worried about the big stuff—most of the time, she trusted him to take care of himself.

"You can't do that," Paige snapped. "Not again."

"He's planning to perform a resurrection ritual that could, potentially, tear this world apart even more," Chris said. "If I can stop that, I don't have a choice. None of us do. Obviously, that's not Plan A, because I don't exactly want to spend the rest of my life in his dungeon. But it's on the table. No use pretending that it's not."

Bianca glared, but didn't protest again. "That's why you're here," she told them. "Keeping you out of Wyatt's hands, that's Plan A."

"That's a good plan," Phoebe agreed wholeheartedly. "I say we go with that plan."

"That's kind of been our plan from day one," Paige said.

"Right, I know, but—" Chris started, before breaking off with a frown. "Daniel's calling. I have to go."

He looked back at his family, looking both reluctant and relieved for his excuse to leave. "I'll be back as soon as I can, and you can stay if you want. I hope you do, because I think we need to start working together. But you're free to leave, and go back to wherever you've been hiding, if you think that's safest. I mean, obviously you're free to leave. You're not prisoners. I wouldn't—" Chris broke off, taking in a shaking breath, unused to not having words come to him easily. "Anyway, Bianca can show you out, if that's what you want."

He quickly orbed away, leaving Bianca with his family. She would be mad about that later, but for now, she didn't dispute his offer of her help.

"Well?" Bianca asked them curtly. "What will it be?"

"I think it goes without saying that we're staying," Paige snapped.

"It doesn't, actually," Bianca said, glancing her way. "Your support is not exactly what you're known for where Chris is concerned."

"If you have something you want to say…" Paige started, stepping forward. Henry reached out to grab her arm, tugging her back.

"Oh, there's plenty I'd like to say," Bianca said, her eyes flashing. "You should be grateful I know how to keep my mouth shut."

"If you're worried it'll upset Chris, we'll keep it just between us," Paige said, breaking free of Henry's hold. "Say what you want. After all, we're practically family, right?"

"Alright," Bianca said, turning to face her. "You want to know what I think? I think you're hypocrites. The great Halliwell line, the Charmed witches, and you're nothing but cowards. Too scared to go up against Wyatt, too scared to save anyone else for fear of making it worse, so what, exactly, is it that you've accomplished these last few years? Aside from saving yourselves, I mean."

"We were trying to save our children," Paige snarled. "Not ourselves."

"I don't blame you for that. You should have run. You'd be dead if you hadn't," she said simply. "But you don't get to stand there and judge him."

"You don't understand what it was like for us," Paige started.

"Do you understand what it was like for him?" Bianca asked, stepping forward angrily. "Imagine being sixteen years old, trapped in the Underworld by someone you love. Watching them torture people right in front of you, and then being forced to sit down to dinner," she said, her sharp tone causing Paige to wince. "That's what Wyatt did to Chris. You think he had it easy? You think he took the easy way out? He's stronger than the rest of you put together."

"You want to know the worst part?" Bianca continued. "All this time, he's been trying so hard to save you, all of you, no matter what it might cost him. And not once—not once, in all these years—did you ever try to save him."

"We're going to save him now," Phoebe said, her protest sounding weak even to her.

"You're a few years too late," Bianca said flatly. "Chris loves you. I don't know why, but he does. But then, Chris also loves Wyatt, so I have serious reservations about his judge of character." She watched them angrily, her energy coiled up inside of her like a spring. "I'm trying to give you the benefit of the doubt, but if you hurt him again, I'll destroy you."

"We never meant to hurt him," Phoebe insisted. "We thought he was the one hurting us."

Bianca glanced at her, softening somewhat. She knew that was why Chris forgave them: you can't get mad when your plan works, he'd told her once, his tone wry and full of bravado. But she knew how much it hurt.

"I should go check on Chris," she said, suddenly wanting nothing more than to get away from them. She wanted to blame them for everything, because that was easy to do, but if they had ever actually come to try and save Chris, things might have ended up so much worse. Everyone had their part to play, and Chris had been the one to cast the roles. "Call Chris or Daniel if you need anything."

She shimmered out abruptly, leaving the confused, devastated family on their own. Henry ran a hand down his face, before spotting a half-full bottle of Jack Daniel's on the desk, and migrating towards it. "Oh thank god," he said. "I need a drink."

"Is Chris even old enough to drink?" Phoebe asked in concern, and then winced, realizing she'd stopped keeping track of his age.

"He won't be twenty-one for three more weeks," Paige said quietly.

"And he's already engaged," Phoebe sighed. "To a Phoenix. She looked too old for him, don't you think? I mean, where do you even meet an assassin witch? Well, I guess, living with Wyatt—"

"I think you're focusing on the wrong things here, Phoebe," Henry interrupted wryly. "Chris is Perry. I think that should be the priority topic of any conversation, don't you agree?"

"Right," Phoebe sighed, dropping down into a chair. "It's like the world's gone all topsy turvy. Nothing's what I thought it was. I mean, all these years, how could we not know?"

"How could Wyatt not know?" Henry asked. "Forget that he fooled us, he's been fooling Wyatt since the start."

"Wyatt's always had a blind spot for Chris," Paige said. "I thought it went both ways. That's why I never questioned—" She broke off, looking away, blinking back tears. "I don't care what he says. He won't ever forgive us. How could he?"

"That doesn't mean we stop trying," Henry said. "Not trying is what got us into this mess in the first place."

"Try, try, and try again," Paige whispered, stepping up to the small office window, looking out at the warded, shimmering horizon. "Even if it kills you."

"She doesn't look like much," Wyatt commented, already bored. He walked around the shackled prisoner, glancing at her with disinterest. "Who is she?"

"Grace Morgan," Sabine answered slyly, sidestepping Wyatt as he paced around them.

"You say that like I should be impressed," he said. "I've never heard of her."

"No, I don't suppose many people have. She's managed to stay almost completely off the radar since you took over." Sabine paused, for dramatic effect. "She's one of Perry's closest allies, been with him almost since the beginning, since before Bianca, even. If anyone can tell you about Perry, it's her."

Wyatt straightened at this information, glancing back at Sabine in renewed interest. "How did you find her?"

"I wish I could take the credit," Sabine said with a falsely modest shrug, "but mostly it was chance. She got spotted by your probes, we went to pick her up. She put up quite the fight." Sabine looked down at her blood stained clothes mournfully. "And this was my favorite blouse, too."

"What's her power?" Wyatt asked curiously, his attention still on Sabine. He had barely glanced at Grace.

"She can freeze someone with a touch," Sabine said.

He looked up in surprise. "That's a Charmed power."

"Sorry, she doesn't freeze them, she literally freezes them," Sabine clarified. "She turns them to ice. It's rather impressive, actually. She killed fourteen guards before they managed to take her down and I could bind her powers."

"Such a waste," Wyatt said.

"You know me better." Sabine grinned, reaching out and touching the wall beside them. Ice crawled out from her finger, spreading quickly to cover the whole wall. "I won't let it go to waste."

Wyatt just watched her warily. "You can't possess more than power at a time," he reminded her. "You'll give it up the next power you find."

"Still, it'll be fun while it lasts," she said with a shrug.

Wyatt turned back towards the prisoner, and finally gave her his full attention. She looked to be about thirty, her strawberry blonde hair strewn with lank, struggling curls. He supposed she might have been considered pretty once, but the war had not been kind.

Her bones pressed tight against her skin and there were dark circles underneath the eye that wasn't swelling shut. She had a scar half across her left cheek, disappearing behind the ear. He recognized a touch of magic about it, something he suspected even a whitelighter had not been able to heal, because he knew the Resistance had at least one.

There was a time he might have felt pity for her—that he might have knelt in front of her and kindly offered a way out, a way to join him and redeem herself.

But she had helped take his brother from him, and that would not be forgiven. The most he was willing to offer her was banishment.

Wyatt leaned into her line of sight, reluctantly admiring her poise. She'd been beaten badly, but somehow had managed to keep her head held up. He could see in her eyes that she was a fighter. It was too bad she'd chosen the wrong side to fight on.

"Let me explain how things are going to go, Grace," Wyatt began.

"She prefers Gracie," a voice called.

Wyatt and Grace both glanced up, Wyatt with a grin, and Grace in fear. A boy, who couldn't have been much older than sixteen, was standing at the back wall of the dungeon with his arms casually crossed. He had dirty blond hair, cut so close it almost looked shaved, and strange, amber colored eyes that seemed to glow in the darkness of the cell.

Sabine even seemed wary of him, keeping her eyes carefully straight ahead, though she did not seem surprised by his entrance.

"That's Alec," Wyatt explained, his voice bizarrely cordial, as though he were introducing someone at a party. He smiled back at Grace. "But more on him in a minute. Let's talk about you. You prefer Gracie, then? Such a pretty name. You don't want to die, do you, Gracie?"

"No," Grace said, her voice sounding as though it were as bruised as the rest of her. "But we don't always get what we want."

Wyatt watched her carefully, frowning suddenly. "You've been my prisoner before," he said after a moment. "You were one of the prisoners that escaped with Perry."

Grace stared back at him blankly, and said nothing in response.

"I never forget a face," Wyatt explained. "I remember you now. You were marked for recruitment."

"I was never going to work for you," she said. "Just like I'm not going to help you now. I know I'm not getting out of here alive, there's nothing you can do to make me talk."

"It doesn't have to go that way," Wyatt said. "There is a way out for you. A very simple way. You just have to tell me where Perry is, and I let you walk out of here. I won't ever let anyone bother you again. You'll have amnesty."

"That's never going to happen," Grace said, letting out a broken, hollow laugh.

His hand snapped out, twisting in her hair, dragging her towards him. "You doubt my word?" he asked, deadly calm.

"I have no doubt you would do it," Grace said. "But I never will."

"You haven't guessed yet, then, what Alec is?" Wyatt asked nonchalantly. "I just recently found him. He only came into his powers a few months ago, but he's a fast learner."

Alec grinned at her, his mad eyes digging into her so fiercely she had to catch her breath. She tried to pull away from Wyatt to get away from Alec's piercing gaze, but he would not lesson his hold. "Do you know what his power is? It's very rare. Almost unheard of for a witch." Wyatt smoothed Grace's bangs back out of her eyes, and his gentle touch was sinister. "He's a telepath."

"He's reading you now," Wyatt went on. "He can read surface thoughts from almost forty yards away. But it's a bit more…invasive, when he needs to know something someone doesn't want known. I've heard it's very painful. I don't think you want to go through that."

"You see, I win, either way," Wyatt explained, as Grace tugged futilely at his hold, looking anywhere but at Alec. "But you don't have to lose."

"I've already lost," Grace gasped.

"The hard way it is," Wyatt decided, releasing his hold. "Alec, find out where Perry is."

Alec uncrossed his arms, stepping forward with a smirk. "If she fights me, I can't promise she'll stay sane," he warned.

"Her mental health is not a priority," Wyatt snapped. "Just find out what I want to know."

Alec dropped down in front of Grace, examining her closely. He reached out and framed her face with his small hands, his thumbs pressing in at the corners of her eyes. "Where is Perry?" he asked.

Images started snapping through her mind, rushing into his, but they were distorted, and the name seemed to have no meaning there. It rushed from one scene to the next, everything in darkness, slipping away. Alec didn't know when it happened, but suddenly he was screaming and falling away from her, collapsing onto the cold floor.

He pushed himself back up, and he could hear Grace laughing breathlessly behind him.

"What the hell was that?" Wyatt demanded, roughly grabbing Alec's arm to drag him back to his feet.

"It's some kind of block," Alec said, glancing back at the prisoner in surprise, and something like admiration. "I can't get past it. She won't tell us who Perry is, because she can't."

Wyatt reached over and grabbed the witch's hair, dragging her head back to examine her eyes. "Is that true?"

She laughed again, blood slipping out to spot her lips. "I know him," she said. "But I'll never tell. Do what you want. I can't ever tell."

"It's a spell," Wyatt decided, watching her carefully. "Willingly cast, and powerful. That's how they've been doing it. All of his followers have been bewitched so they can't give him away."

Wyatt's eyes narrowed as he watched Grace, twisting his fingers to grip her more tightly as he tried to understand the magic wound so tightly through her mind. "But how far does it spread? How much does it protect? Something this strong, it had to be specific. You couldn't risk it being too vague, or it wouldn't work. So maybe you can't tell me where Perry is—but I'm guessing there's still plenty you can tell me."

Gracie went pale, jerking in Wyatt's grasp, a futile move to try and get away. Alec grinned as he caught on, and dropped back to his knees, reaching out again to place his hands back on the witch's temples.

Usually Wyatt would ask: where is Perry, always to receive no answer. This enchantment was obviously tied deeply to Perry, meant to protect him, protect who he was, where he was. He just needed to ask something more general, and make a guess as to where Perry might be himself.

"Where is the Resistance headquarters?" Wyatt asked gently.

Grace screamed as Alec's powers began to tear through her mind, digging in to rip the answer from her—she tried to resist, but it wasn't long before he found it, and dragged it right out of her.

"They're in Minnesota…Farmington," Alec made a look of a slight distaste. "In a high school."

"Clever," Wyatt said dryly. "Certainly one of the last places I'd think to look."

Grace had gone alarmingly pale, still half-heartedly fighting against Alec's hold. Wyatt glanced down at her. "You should have taken my offer," he said. "Now you're going to end up dead like all your friends. Not as quickly, as of course."

"You…won't win…" Grace said, letting out a sharp, strange breath that might have been another attempt at a laugh. "I still know something…you don't."

"And what's that?" Wyatt asked, leaning forward.

"I know who Perry really is," she said.

"That's very nice for you, but thanks to your assistance, I know something far more important," Wyatt said, turning away from her. "I know where to find him."

He started towards the door, and Sabine stepped after him. "I'll come with you," she said quickly.

Wyatt held out a dismissive hand, the force of his motion pulling Sabine to an uncoordinated stop. "No," he snapped, glancing back at her. "This is personal. I go alone."

"Are you sure that's a good idea? If Perry is there—" she started.

"I'm counting on him being there, and I plan to be the one to find him. I've trusted this search to others long enough. You stay here with Alec and see if you can get anything else out of her," he said. He glanced back at Grace briefly, before turning to march from the room. "Have him search her mind until there's nothing left."

Sabine watched Wyatt leave, pursing her lips, before turning back to Alec. "See if you can find out who Perry is."

"But the block—" Alec started.

"Are you powerful, or are you not?" she snapped.

Alec bristled at the insult, and turned back to Grace, closing his eyes. "Who is Perry," he asked.

Sabine sighed impatiently, sure that Alec would not be able to get past the blocks. It was strong magic, and she had been aware of it for some time. This was an exercise in futility, and she would much rather be with Wyatt running interference for Perry. She would hate for him to be caught this early in the game, she still had such plans for him.

Alec let out a startled gasp, pushing away from Grace with wide eyes. He turned to look at Sabine in disbelief, his heart beating far too fast.

"What, did you see something?" Sabine asked, incredulous that he could have gotten past the block. She had been certain he wouldn't be able to. She had been near Perry, and knew just how strong his magic was.

Alec's strange eyes traveled up and met hers, and that's when she knew. He hadn't been reading Grace, he'd been reading her. He'd asked the question: who is Perry, and his mind had latched onto hers, because she was thinking of the answer herself.

"It's…you…" he started, trying to push himself to his feet to get away from her. "You're working with him. You're working with Perry."

"Oh, Alec," Sabine sighed. "Didn't I warn you about reading my mind?"

He started to run and Sabine disappeared with an exasperated roll of her eyes, reappearing in front of him and catching hold of his throat with her hand. She pulled him against her, moving one hand to the top of his head, and then twisted, soundly snapping his neck.

She released her hold and he fell limply to the ground at her feet.

"You killed him," Grace said in surprise, tugging at the chains as she looked up at Sabine with wide eyes. "You're…you must be Perry's informant." She breathed out a sigh of relief. "Thank god you're here, we have to warn Perry—"

"I'm afraid you've entirely misread the situation," Sabine told her politely, stepping back towards her. "I'm not saving you. I'm setting you up."

"What—" Grace started in confusion.

"Alec is Wyatt's newest toy, he won't be happy he's dead," she explained. "So I'm afraid I'm going to have to blame that on you."

Sabine placed a hand on Grace's cheek, and let the witch's own power flow out, freezing her blood. Grace's eyes glassed over as her skin turned blue, before it blackened and cracked.

"It really is such a shame," Sabine said, reaching out to run a hand gently across Grace's reddish curls. "We might have been allies, if you had been just a little faster."

Sabine turned, straightening her jacket as she started for the door, her heels echoing along the stone floor as she left without looking back.