All Chris could do was stare and sputter out one word: "What?"
"Unless," Wyatt said, "I'm completely off base here. I've always wondered what, if anything, you might remember. For the longest time, it seemed like it was just me, but after the past few days, and what both you and Dad said ... maybe I do understand, and you can tell me what's wrong."
"What's wrong? What's wrong is that twenty-four hours ago, I was in the past. And this afternoon, the Elders unceremoniously dumped me back into my own time, except this is a whole different life they didn't fill me in on. My family's different, my life is different, and you - I don't know you. But I'm supposed to figure it out all at once. And if you're saying you're going through the same thing, but you've got it all down already, congratulations on being way better at this than I am."
Wyatt frowned. "I'm not sure. This all just happened today for you? And you've got, what, amnesia?"
"Pretty much," Chris snapped, and then sighed and admitted, "No, not completely. Things are coming back to me pretty quickly. The point is, it's crowding into a life that I remember perfectly, and it's not this one." He gestured to the world all around them, the well-tended garden, that angel statue intact, the city glittering beyond.
"You remember it like it was real?"
"It was real. So what are you talking about?"
"Not perfect memories of a whole other life, that's for sure. But ever since I was little, I would get these impressions, flashes. At first I didn't think of it as memories, but just stories. You know, just being a kid, with all the imaginary worlds that make sense to you when you're that age. I told you about some of it, but maybe you were too young to remember."
"And you never told anyone else?"
"No, I told Mom and Dad."
"Of course you did."
"Hey, not all of us are compulsive secret-keepers," Wyatt said with a grin. "Okay, there was a period of time when I didn't talk about it much. I stopped telling those stories after a while - it didn't seem important enough to share. But as I got older - the memories seemed to more or less coincide with whatever age I was. And the older I got, the worse they got."
Somewhere in there, the same Wyatt that Chris had known. Chris had to ask, "Like what? What do you remember?"
"Things you may not know, I'm guessing."
"Oh, I know a lot. You'd be surprised."
Wyatt paused, seeming to give it some thought before he offered: "Did you know that he - that other Wyatt - lied to you to get your blood for a potion?"
"I remember him saying he needed my blood - and his own - for a potion to vanquish the demon that killed Mom. That was a lie?"
Wyatt's eyes widened. "Wow," he breathed. "I didn't know Mom died."
"Lucky you. What was the blood really for? Buying off vampires or something?"
"Uh, no. It was for healing."
"Oh, that potion. He didn't think Whitelighters would heal him. He just told me about that - by the time the potion wasn't doing him any damn good."
"Flashes like that, tricking you to do something like that, seemed bad enough. But I had no idea how much worse it could get. By the time I was a teenager, I could see how these echoes, these memories, whatever they were, were changing, and I decided it was time to talk to Mom and Dad."
"What did they say?"
"They told me what they knew: magical time travel, how older versions of both you and me showed up in the past when I was a baby and you weren't even born yet. They said a lot of things changed, thanks to all that. Different past, different future. But until very recently, I didn't understand why you didn't remember, though maybe you, being you, just weren't telling anyone."
Chris shook his head. "This all just hit me today. And I guess you're telling me I should confess to Mom and Dad."
"It can't hurt."
"Does anyone else know?" Chris asked.
Wyatt hesitated, and Chris could even imagine his face coloring a bit, though it was too dark to tell for sure.
"Well, a few days ago," Wyatt said, "I, um, may have gone to Uncle Henry and confessed to murder."
"You what? But none of that stuff happened now."
"Some of it did. In 2004, that other Wyatt was responsible for the deaths of two people. I remember what he did to them. I remember their names."
"What did Henry say?"
"He said he could hardly arrest me for murders that happened in two countries when I was a year old. Aunt Paige - I talked to both of them - she said she's suspected the truth for years. I think it still hit her hard to have it confirmed. And for all the time that Henry has spent around magic, he was still pretty disturbed. He is a cop, after all."
"But it wasn't you that killed them."
"That doesn't make June or Richard any less dead."
"But you had to know Henry couldn't arrest you. What did you hope to accomplish?"
"I don't know. With this one thing, maybe I could make amends. Help in some way, bring some closure on a couple of cold cases, for their families."
"Yeah, magical families. Richard's family had a real talent for holding grudges for generations, and backing those grudges with violence. I'm just glad you didn't go confess to them. We'd probably be in an all-out magical feud by now."
"You may be right."
"I was there for the peace negotiations for their last feud. I am right."
"Then I'll just have to keep on living with it. But at least it's over."
"What do you mean, over?"
"The Elders sent you back. But they didn't send me back. Like I said, these past few days have been weird. There's nothing left of that life for me to remember, is there?"
"No. He's gone."
Wyatt nodded. "After what came to me yesterday, I thought so."
"You remember dying?"
"No, I remember being stabbed and believing that nothing could save me. And it was a relief."
"A relief? For who?"
"For both of us. It felt like ... It's hard to explain. What Phoebe did connected us. And it was like he could turn it over to me. He thought he was just grimly facing facts, that he was mortally wounded, so he had to get as much done as he could before he couldn't fight off death anymore. But I know. By the end, he was relieved to give in."
"And you? You're relieved, too?"
"Yes. I've lived with him long enough."
Wyatt was somber, but unapologetic. And he had every right. Why wouldn't he be grateful to be rid of that ghost? Why would he mourn him?
"He died in front of me, you know," Chris said.
"I know. I'm sorry."
Chris pushed himself up from the bench, the knuckles of his clenched fists scraping on the stone. He paced briefly, looking for a target that wasn't there, before he directed his outburst at Wyatt: "I tried to get him to see sense, see how we could get Gideon or someone to heal him. But he wouldn't. Instead he used up every last bit of life he had to kill Gideon. Revenge was more important to him than living."
"I told you, he-"
"And you! You remembering? You weren't supposed to have to carry all this. And if you remember what he went through, the trauma that supposedly turned him, like Leo thought, how come you're not-"
"How come I'm not evil? I told you, it's just echoes. Bits and pieces, incomplete. It's not like I lived it."
"But why these 'echoes' at all?"
"Because he messed around in the past himself? Because he died there?" Wyatt sighed. "Honestly, I think what Phoebe did may have crossed back to me, actual me" - he pointed to his chest - "more than she meant it to. And before you start, that doesn't mean it's her fault or yours. It's like Dad said, and you ought to listen to him - and give him a break - there's no blame. You did the best you could."
"And it all blew up in my face."
"When he dragged you back to the future. It's like Aunt Paige always says, magic may work in mysterious ways-"
"-but it always works," Chris recited without enthusiasm.
"Yeah, maybe it does. These memories, echoes, whatever they are, what they've shown me ... I tell myself that person isn't me. But he is. I have a glimpse of the worst I can be, and it's really, really bad. So I try not to be that." Wyatt smiled. "I may overcompensate sometimes."
That drew a shaky laugh from Chris. "Yeah, I can see that."
"I hope you can also see in me what you wanted to save in him."
"But I didn't save him. Wyatt was the one who stopped Gideon. You saved yourself."
"That's not how I remember that day - what I've remembered for a long time. It's my earliest memory, and it's my life, not his. I remember being trapped and scared. I remember someone freeing me and pulling me to safety. That's who saved me. Not him. And now I know - it was you."
A jumble of memories came to Chris as if from a receding long-ago. Little Wyatt, the same kid who had thrown up his shield whenever Chris was near, now clutching his neck in the Underworld. The next day, that same Wyatt playing next to Chris as he slept, then later blowing away that demon in the attic.
The child who had done all those things - shutting Chris out for months, clinging to him for safety, protecting him in a moment Chris had been too distracted by grief to protect himself - that Wyatt was here, grown up and standing in front of him. A strange thought, but one that made this brother, finally, not a stranger.
When Chris returned to the Manor, he orbed straight to the empty kitchen to grab a rag and a bowl of water, and then orbed to the porch, to finally clean up the ice cream mess. Down on his knees, he had just started when the porch light flicked on and the front door opened. It was Melinda.
She wrinkled her nose. "Ew. What happened here?"
"Penka dropped bacon ice cream here. My fault, actually."
"Isn't everything?"
He gave her a mock glare. "Shut up."
Melinda laughed and sat on the porch's stone ledge to watch him clean. "Your mood seems a little better, anyway," she said. "Did Wyatt find you?"
"Yeah."
"And you're okay? I mean, to be honest, Wyatt and I were worried about you this afternoon when you were acting strange - you were, don't argue. Then you seemed better at dinner, till you flipped out at Dad. What gives?"
Finishing up, Chris leaned over the ledge next to her to dump the water in the bushes.
"I'm not sure myself," he answered with a sigh. "It was just ... I wish I could explain, but it's a really long story. Maybe later. Definitely not tonight. But I'll be fine." He kind of believed it now. "You don't need to worry about me, okay?"
"Okay." She reached up to pat his head. "I'd hug you, but your hands are probably all sticky and gross."
Chris laughed, plopping the rag into the empty bowl. "Fair enough."
They moved inside, and before Melinda headed into the living room to work on her own homework, she warned him, "Don't think you're getting up to your room unnoticed, by the way - unless you orb up there and hope your door's shut. Dad's in the hallway fixing that light."
After Chris had ditched his cleaning materials and washed his hands, he walked to the bottom of the stairs and paused there.
Wyatt had told their parents about his memories as soon as they had begun to trouble him, like that was just the normal thing to do. Oddly enough, the other Wyatt had been just as forthcoming when he had shown up in the past - so Leo had said, anyway. Chris couldn't necessarily credit that Wyatt with great motives; it had undoubtedly been a tactic to gain their trust (and turn them against Chris).
But maybe there was a lesson there, all the same. Chris walked up the stairs.
When he reached the second floor, Leo was at the light switch, his work illuminated by a lamp with a cord trailing from the master bedroom. He was just finishing the last screw to secure the switch's plate.
"Done?" Chris asked.
Leo turned and gave Chris a tentative smile. "Yeah. Just need to turn the electricity back on, try it out."
"I'll get it."
As Chris orbed to the basement, he wondered if Leo thought he was fleeing, but the offer had been in a spirit of helpfulness. Leo couldn't orb anymore. Chris could get the job done in seconds. He flipped the only breaker that was off and returned to the same spot outside his bedroom.
"How about now?" he asked.
Leo tried the switch, and the light came on, shining steadily. "Thanks for the help," he told Chris.
"You're welcome." He had to get this over with. "Where's Mom?"
Winding up the lamp's cord, Leo said, "She's in the attic."
Chris pictured her looking through the Book of Shadows, trying to figure out what was wrong with her middle child - and then he realized that thinking of himself as a middle child had just come to him without hesitation.
"I need to talk to her. And" - Chris made himself say it - "you, too."
"Glad to hear it," Piper said, descending from upstairs. "What do you want to talk about?"
Chris took a deep breath. "This afternoon, I mean, before we went to deal with Andras, I came back." He looked at Leo. "You saw the Elders send me back to my own time. Well, here I am."
They didn't look surprised - just sympathetic and even a little relieved.
"Come here," Piper said, and pulled him into a hug.
Chris didn't have to explain that he'd rather not accidentally have Melinda be part of this conversation. That was understood, and the three of them ended up behind closed doors in the master bedroom. Chris told them what he'd told Wyatt in the garden, how what he was experiencing was different from what Wyatt had apparently gone through for years. But Chris could also assure them - not with complete confidence, but with more confidence than he had felt hours ago - that this life here and now was not lost to him.
"You don't have an amnesiac on your hands. Not really."
"And you'll tell us if you're having any problems with sorting out the memories?" Piper didn't give Chris time to hesitate before she changed that to a statement. "You will tell us."
"Yes, all right," he promised. "Sorting it out is not a problem, I swear. Mostly. It's just ..."
"Wyatt?" Leo said quietly.
"He's so different, and I know that's what this was all for, so Wyatt could be different. And I see my brother, I do. He's new, but at the same time, I've known him all my life, haven't I? But I also saw my brother die yesterday. Earlier today, Leo, you and I were cleaning out his belongings from that hotel room. And before that, three days ago-" Chris shook his head. Did they even know? Had Phoebe told them?
Yes, she had, because his mother completed his words. "Three days ago, your fiancée died," Piper said gently.
"Yes. Those are my freshest memories." He took a deep breath. "But there are moments when I can look around and say this is good."
"It's what you worked for," Piper said.
"And anything that went wrong," Leo said, "was not your fault."
"Okay, but-"
"No. I mean it. Everything that happened, it's fresh to you, but we've had over twenty years to gain some understanding and acceptance. I do not blame you, and don't try to tell me that I do, got it?"
"I got it, Dad."
Raising his eyebrows, Leo smiled at that, and it wasn't because of the reluctant assurance, but in response to the word that had slipped out before Chris knew it - "Dad." That was what was normal here and now. Maybe they still didn't get along, but the habit of calling his father "Leo" entirely belonged to the timeline Chris had left behind.
But Chris wasn't up for any bonding moments beyond that, so he changed the subject, asking, "The Elders let Wyatt keep his powers?"
"The Elders decided to put him on a kind of probation," Leo answered. "They didn't strip his powers, but said they would at any sign he was headed down the wrong path."
"That could easily have gone horribly," Chris said. "I mean, by the time Wyatt was down the wrong path, you think the Elders didn't try that? But he made sure his powers were protected."
"Lucky it worked out this time, then," Piper said.
"You're right. I'm sorry. Not expecting the worst may take getting used to."
"Sweetie, I hate to tell you this, but you weren't exactly an optimist yesterday either," she said with a fond smile. "But today, life is good. Your brother isn't evil, and you can also take some credit for defeating Andras today."
"Really? I thought we just got in the way of the Power of Three."
"You did take care of most of the demons before we got there, but there's more to it than that." She walked to her dresser and, from the recesses of the bottom drawer, she retrieved a small box and opened it. "There's this," she said, and handed Chris what she had pulled out of the box.
The piece of torn notebook paper was folded, but still bore evidence of long-ago crumpling. On it was his own handwriting: "Major attack on San Francisco ^and Kansas City planned for 2026. Find and vanquish before then."
Piper explained, "You left dirty clothes in the laundry room, remember? This was in your pocket. You probably meant to throw it away - 'future consequences'? - but screw that. I couldn't unread it and do nothing. Of course, you gave no indication of who needed vanquishing, but Phoebe remembered the name Andras coming up between you and Cole during her little jaunt to the future. So we kept our eye out for him." She paused and opened the box again. "This was also in your pocket."
She put Bianca's engagement ring into his hand.
In the lamplight, the small circle gleamed, even after all these years, as Piper continued, "We didn't keep all the things you and Wyatt left behind in the past. But this - I thought the choice whether to keep it or let it go should be yours to make."
