Hi everyone, here it goes chapter 38. It's with a flashback, I really hope you will enjoy it.
Chris' Adorer was once more so kind to search for my mistakes ;)
Thanks to those who not only read but reviewed last chapter. I very much appreciate it.
Chapter 38
Phoebe unlocked the door to the Manor with her key. Like all family members, she owned a key to her former home. Although, she was the only one who couldn't enter in a magical way on her own. Thus, no one but her really needed a key. The keys were rather a symbolic way to insure every Halliwell, saw the Manor not only as the place where their powers had been born from and as the center of their magical life, but also their home, where they were always welcomed.
Neither of Phoebe's daughters nor Paige's children had ever lived in the Victorian house (yet – after all, they were just teenagers) and didn't refer to it as home. But the history and magic linked to, attracted them all.
Who knew who else would be going to live here in the future? Generations of Warren witches that would be progeny of the Charmed Ones.
The Manor was quiet when she entered. She peaked into the sitting room. It was tidy, the sunlight didn't show one dust particle. She went further into the hall but stopped when she felt a presence. She looked down on Faye, standing in front of her. The small elf bowed her head.
"It is an honor to finally meet you, Mrs. Halliwell," she breathed. "I was hoping to meet the Charmed Ones eventually."
Phoebe blushed, feeling uncomfortable at the open adoration. "Thank you, how nice. I am very happy to meet you, too. My nephew praises you all the time. And I can see why. The house never looked so tidy." Piper would love this, she thought.
Now, it was Faye's turn to blush. She pressed her hands to her chest, he eyes glowing proudly. "I give my very best to help in this fabulous and honorable house. Can I offer you something? Coffee or a snack?"
"Oh, no, thank you. How sweet of you." She had been in a meeting at the newspaper and had already drunken enough caffeine. "I wanted to talk to Chris. Is he home?"
Last night, she and her family had returned from their holiday. Prue had gone back to Chicago directly but they had used the time well and talked things through. Phoebe thought, her daughter had understood. Nevertheless, she had to promise to stay in touch more with all of them. It also helped Phoebe to get a better insight in her daughter's life and values. It had been a new experience for her, too. They hadn't talked like mother to daughter but from woman to woman.
When she came back to her office,, she had found a basket filled with letters from readers and her email mailbox added even more to it. She was selecting all letters herself and tried to answer them all, also those that did not appear in print in the paper. Lately, she could even chat with her readers once a week for a few hours. It made her very proud to see how many different people turned to her; and some after receiving her advice even contacted her again to thank her or to tell her of their experiences after following the advice.
Phoebe thought of her job as the best job in the world. She could help people, be creative and also learnt a lot about herself and others.
"Yes, he is. But he wanted to lie down for a while," Faye said.
Phoebe was surprised. It was 4:30 in the afternoon. She hoped her nephew wasn't sick, but Faye went on: "I don't know how you see it, but I think this work at night cannot be healthy."
"If you managed to stop him, I'd call you the most powerful elf known," Phoebe joked.
"That is very unlikely," Faye replied sternly. "Excuse me."
Phoebe watched her leaving. So, the elf had learned about Chris' stubbornness by now, too. He couldn't be blamed – with that set of parents, he had stood no chance to not inherit those genes. The formerly middle Charmed sister looked around the hall. She wondered, if she shall leave. If her nephew was sleeping, she didn't want to wake him.
At least, it explained, why he hadn't come to meet her the very moment, she had entered the house.
From all Halliwell witches with whitelighter powers, Chris had always been the one with the strongest sensing power. Ever since he was very little, he could find his brother or cousins when playing hide and seek within seconds, spoiling the fun. The first time anyone had seen baby Chris using magic had been Victor – besides of Wyatt of course (the two boys had always been amazing in keeping secrets from the adults). Her father had only told them a few days later after the tension of the battle against the Ultimate Power had worn off and Piper and Leo had been happily reunited and she and Coop magically married. It turned out, it had been Chris who had brought his brother back after he had disappeared from his grandfather's apartment. "Simply orbed Wyatt back into the playpen within the twinkle of an eye," Victor had proudly announced.
The woman felt the sharp pain clutching her heart, thinking of her father. But then, she remembered how happy he was, proud and probably very much relieved that they all were okay.
"Now, Aunt Phoebe, aren't you tanned. The Texan sun sure isn't nice to everyone."
Phoebe looked up the staircase, which her nephew descended.
She rolled her eyes. She knew, her nose still shined red compared to her usual skin color. She should have worn the cowboy hat despite looking…well, not as fashionable as usual.
"I just wanted to leave again. I was told you are napping," she said. "You aren't sick, are you?"
"No, I don't think so. It was ridiculous to think that, if I can't sleep at night, I could in the middle of the day, anyway. How was your holiday? Did you enjoy the open nature on a horse's back?"
"It was fantastic," Phoebe sighed. "Hey, how do you know, we were in Texas? I didn't tell anyone yet."
"Prue sent me photos. Lots of them. I also know that Uncle Coop's horse did not like him that much. It probably found it unfair that his four friends were allowed to carry four beautiful cowgirls and he got stuck with the 6'5 male."
Phoebe laughed. Her husband had indeed had troubles climbing on the horse and staying there much to the delight of his daughters. She remembered Prue taking photos during the whole holiday and she also had her mobile glued to her hand most of the time, which didn't surprise Phoebe anymore. All her daughters barely let their phones out of their sights.
"Paul Harvey once said 'Paris is a city where tomorrow fell in love with yesterday and side by side they live happily ever after'. Can you agree with that?"
"I don't even know who that is. But it was a lovely trip in a friendly town. And a total surprise to me. Now, I don't even have to tell you much about our holiday. But I don't think anyone has thanked you yet."
"Why would anyone thank me?"
Phoebe linked arms with him and walked to the dining table. She was sure, that not only knew Chris exactly what she was talking about, but also had he probably waited for her to see him. She sat down at the table with him. She put her bag off her shoulder and placed it on the tabletop.
"I know it was your doing that Prue spent the holiday with us. She told me."
Chris shook his head. "No idea, why she says that. I can assure you, I never said, 'Prue, go on vacation with your family'. Maybe she found Texas fascinating."
"You talked to her and whatever you said, made her decide. You did not complain about her unlike everyone else, even Coop. She said, afterwards she did not feel like she was welcomed at home anymore. She said, she understood, that she alienated from the family and she wants to change that. Although, she will stay in Chicago."
"What's distance and time compared to love."
She nodded. She had used that sentence in one of her columns not so long ago. A reader had told her about the issues, she had with her long distance relationship. "Anyway, thank you. I don't know what we'd do without you holding us together."
"I don't. I just don't want to live in a world again where my family is separated. It's very lonely."
"I can only imagine and I don't even want that." She smiled at him reassuringly. She, like the rest of the family, barely knew anything of the time only her nephew remembered. Sometimes she feared to leave him alone with it. But he didn't talk about it neither in the past nor now.
"Now," she grabbed her large bag. "I have a present for you." She took a soft parcel wrapped in brown paper out.
Chris unwrapped its content. He stared at the green and blue plaid shirt. "Thanks."
Phoebe laughed at his stern expression. "You don't have to wear it. Penny choose it, when I asked the girls to search for something for you."
"I see. No, it's nice. It just…" he stood up and put the shirt over the t-shirt he was already wearing. "…reminds me of dad."
Oh, I wonder why?" Phoebe smiled. "But you know it fits you."
"Thanks for the compliment, I guess. Do you want to take a photo for Prue and everyone else to banter me about."
"Good idea." The woman fished for her smartphone. When she looked up to take the photo, she smirked. Chris had projected a dark brown cowboy hat, which he wore deep into his forehead, casually slouching on his chair.
Phoebe quickly took a few photos. "Your rare moments of clowning have to be remembered."
"Anything for my little cousins." The hat disappeared. "Moreover, the Elders said I shall use my projection power more."
"Do they?" Phoebe put the phone back. She suddenly became serious again when she spotted the file that included some of her readers' letters. "You don't happen to have written me a letter, do you?"
"A letter?" Chris raised his eyebrows surprised.
Once more, Phoebe wondered, if he only pretended it. She had never been able to see through her nephew completely. This secrecy probably made him attractive for others, but at the same time, it was frustrating for those who loved him as it shut them out.
"Did you receive a letter from a Chris, 22, from San Francisco?" the young man asked.
"No. It's common that my readers stay anonymous or use phony names."
"Then why would you think it was me?"
"The author lost his partner unexpected in an accident and although his friends and family insist, he had mourned enough and shall go on with his life, he finds it impossible to open up to a new romantic relationship."
"Uhu. So, you think, because this seems slightly familiar, I'd write a letter to a newspaper. Because I like it so much to have my issues discussed in public," he said sarcastically.
She had to admit this had been her first thought, too, that Chris barely wanted to talk about problems with someone in private, let alone have it written in a daily paper.
"You know, things like that happen often enough to people – other than me. And don't you think, that if I wanted advice from Phoebe, I'd ask Aunt Phoebe?"
"I hope so." The Charmed One answered with a shrug.
Chris didn't answer to that but asked. "Then what are you going to reply?"
"I don't know yet. It is a difficult topic." She hadn't decided yet, if she really wanted her advice on this subjected printed. Although, she had no other way to reply to the reader as she had no contact details. She wanted to help, of course, but she wasn't sure if she could find the right words. Especially, if it was more personal than she thought.
"And you are known for avoiding difficult topics," Chris said ironically.
Phoebe smiled a bit. "I am not even sure, why I find it more difficult than other problems."
"Because death is involved with its finality?"
"Maybe. I mean it is a usual reaction wanting to console someone who lost a loved one, but perhaps in this case, the consoling needs to stop and a more blatant advice has to follow. I don't know yet."
"You see, no one can completely understand, how it is, when you have your life planned with someone and suddenly, without a warning, that someone is taken from you and with that all your plans, all your hopes and wishes and you know, that this will all be gone forever, because never again will you find another person like the one you've lost. And it hurts when people you love, although you know, they only mean well, kind of demand you to forget all about it and move on with a new partner or with your life in general. Because you will always feel guilty, that you are the one that survived. It is irrational and maybe even foolish, but it feels like betraying the deceased with your life. Moreover, just because someone died, doesn't mean your love died. It does not really make sense, does it? But maybe you do understand."
Phoebe took a deep breath.
She had been heartbroken many times in her life and she had almost considered giving up on love and accepting, that she would spend her life alone. And she had lost lovers to death, too. Although, those had been demons, which made it different. She had to vanquish Cole with her sisters to save the world from evil. Drake had died freely after making a deal with a demon to live one year as a mortal. So much time had passed since she had gone through all that and so much good had happened in her life ever since. She had found the most precious love in her children and the most intimate with her husband. She could only remember the pain theoretically, but didn't feel it anymore. Her wounds had healed. They had been healed by the love she was receiving and was able to give. But how did she get to the point to even move on? But it had been a long way. However, it had been more than worth it.
"How is that spell going?" Peter asked, noticing Chris wasn't writing anymore for quite a while now, but staring out of the window that showed into the overgrown garden.
Bianca looked up as well.
The piece of paper in front of Chris was covered with stroked through words and sentences, as well as with tiny sketches of Bianca, that he covered with his hand.
"You aren't supposed to write a second 'Gone with the wind'," Peter went on taking the silence as a negative reply. "Only four lines to call the Book of Shadows. Can't be that difficult for a witch. Especially, as the book rightfully belongs to you."
Bianca glared at him, immediately ready to defend her boyfriend. "Would go better, if you'd shut up for a while."
"Hey, I haven't said anything before. I was learning, how to use my new cell," the Elder replied and pressed some buttons on the touchscreen.
Bianca rolled her eyes. "What do you need a cell for? You don't have any friends to call."
"No, but Phillip here did," Peter replied as he went on to check the data saved in the phone.
"I truly doubt Elders are allowed to steal," the young woman said.
"In this time and place, Elders are allowed to do whatever they please. And Phillip won't need it, anymore," he retorted bitterly.
"He should have stayed out of the fire line. This ugly shop wasn't worth defending." Bianca shrugged off the death of another person, who shouldn't have been involved.
"He was an innocent nevertheless."
"Oh, so now you feel like an Elder again? Typical for you to be such a hypocrite."
Peter ignored her and addressed Chris again: "Back to the spell. Any progress?"
Bianca crossed her arms over her chest, narrowing her eyes giving the man an angry glare. "If you think it is so easy, why don't you write it?"
"Because, as you sharp wittily declared, I am an Elder. Elders don't write spells. Witches do and this one in particular." He pointed at Chris, who was still focused on a spot in the garden.
Bianca jumped up furiously. She snatched the mobile out of Peter's hands and threw it against the wall with all force. The display broke and it went out.
"I'm tired of you telling us what to do!" she exclaimed. "Why do we have to fight on your behalf? Isn't it your job to protect innocents, care for witches and whitelighters? You are in charge of the magical world. For what it's worth, you precious Elders should have taken care of the problem. After all, you have the least to lose. You are already dead."
"Lucky me, to be alive to see this," Peter replied.
"Could you guys stop fighting? I'm trying to think," Chris spoke up to make them end their useless argument end. It didn't matter anymore, who should have done what, whose fault it was. They were in this together, searching desperately for a way out. They all were on edge. The sadness of the soon farewell hung over them heavily. It was so easy by now to pretend to be uncaring, untouched by losing someone. It happened too often. But this was more extreme. The lives of those left behind would change. They'd change – without them even realizing. Chris would leave to go to the past. Everything he'd do there or even every word he'd say, would change something in the future.
Silence surrounded them now that Bianca and Peter had stopped talking.
The usual noises of a neighborhood were barely heard anymore. In this dark world, children didn't play in the streets or gardens, people stayed in their houses; rarely, cars rolled down the road. Even the birds seemed to have stopped tweeting.
Chris tore his eyes away from the garden, when he felt the familiar warmth of a hand on his shoulder. Bianca smiled at him encouraging. Her smile always caused a comfortable feeling within him. It was like a bright spot finding its way through the dark. Because it was so random and especially for him, he couldn't help but feel consoled; it eased him up. And right now, it did more: Suddenly the words, he had tried to come up with, popped up in his mind. He took a free sheet of paper and wrote them down. Like his aunt had taught him year ago: simple words, exact meaning, melodic rhyming.
It was so clear, so easy, effortlessly; Chris wondered, why he couldn't make up the spell before. Frankly, he hadn't thought intensely. The truth was, he didn't want to leave and that was what had held him back.
But now, he understood, there was no other choice, if he wanted to see this smile more often – for the rest of their lives – he'd had to go.
The image of a world covered in sunshine, full of noises of happiness, full of life; the possibility to have a life without constant fear, without hiding. A good, normal world with all its bright and shadow sides, that was what he aimed for. And the only way to achieve that, was to go back in time.
However, it was almost unbearable to leave this love and also the friends and all the things that had become important and valuable.
"You are sure that will work?" Bianca asked reading the spell.
Chris nodded, and really, he didn't doubt it.
Peter stood up. He walked to them and scanned the words as well. "Good. So, you will go to the Manor."
"I know. I mean it is where the book belongs, it will find its way there easily. We can open a portal there, too. The Nexus is there…"
"Right." The Elder nodded. "I guess, some culture will do you good." He handed some bills to Bianca. The money had appeared in his open hand. "It's my treat. You rather don't break in there. Don't draw attention."
"Culture?" Bianca frowned, but didn't question further.
"Okay." Peter looked around the room. "Then, everything is covered. You have a spell to get the Book of Shadows. In the book, you'll find the spell that will bring you back in time. You have a story to follow."
Chris nodded.
"Will they just accept an undetailed story?" Bianca asked. "What if they inquisition you?"
"I'm sure they will," Chris replied. "But I think I can lie pretty well."
"Nice. Every girl wants to hear that from her fiancé."
"They should know, that you can't tell them too much about the future. They have experienced time travelling. And if they don't, Leo will," Peter answered. "Moreover, your great advantage is that you know them, but they don't know you. You can use your knowledge on their past to influence them. I told you, as long as you are underestimated, you'll keep the upper hand."
"What if they find him out nevertheless?" Bianca wondered. "I mean you are family. They won't believe some random guy from the future drops in to help them. Your mom, couldn't she suspect, who you are? She's your mother after all."
"She isn't yet. Not in the time, I'll end up. Moreover, I expect them to be mistrusting. They'd catch me off guard, if they aren't."
"Don't forget you are a whitelighter to them. Sit back and relax. They have to vanquish the demons. You are only assisting," Peter reminded.
"I can handle it," Chris assured.
"Don't get emotional. Don't get attached. Keep your distance. Focus on the job. Rather get away from them, when you feel insecure. Moreover, you do not go to the past to work out personal issues. There's only one thing, you wish to change, nothing else." Peter looked at him intensely, but didn't pressure any further after that. "And one last advice: Stay away from me in the past. I won't be on your side. I'm a very stern Elder."
"Some things will never change," Bianca mumbled.
"I can handle it," Chris repeated.
"Sure you can," Peter agreed. "We know that."
"I can't imagine, how the world will be when it's changed," Bianca said pensively. "I can't even remember, how it was years ago, when we lived in a good world. Sometimes, it seems like it had never been other than this." She gestured around the room and into the garden.
She was right, Chris thought. The good of the world had been gone for so long, suppressed and literally overpowered by evil. It was as if it had always been like this.
"Funny enough, once it's changed, you won't know it had been evil at all," Peter said.
The young woman frowned at him. "What do you mean?"
"You do understand the concept of time traveling, don't you?" the Elder sighed, bothered he had to explain this further. He looked at Chris, who had his eyes lowered on the spell appearing busy checking it again.
Bianca crossed her arms again. Chris knew it drove her mad, when she was treated like she was stupid and Peter had a tendency to make her feel exactly that way.
"See," Peter started with his lecture. "Chris here will go back in time, about 23 years, as we know that whatever turned his brother happened prior to his birth and he's…"
"Move to the point," the female witch ordered angrily.
"The point is: This will never happen. The world will never become like this. Neither of us will know about this presence, we live in now."
"Apart from Chris. He will return to the moment he left, right?"
"A-yeah," Peter hesitated. "I'm not sure what will happen with Chris'; where or rather when he will return to. However, the question is, why would we want to remember anyway?"
There was a short pause in silence as Bianca let the words drop and understanding showed on her face. She jerked around.
"I will forget you," she said to Chris. He looked up, but didn't say anything. "Did you know that?"
Chris sighed. She would see right through him, if he lied now. "I was not sure, but the thought came to me," he admitted.
"The thought came to you?" she exclaimed. "You did think of that? Okay, well, and what are you going to do about it?"
He shook his head. "What can I do?"
"You could at least care, damn it!" Bianca demanded.
"I do care. It is all I care about. I'll think of something. I will work something out."
"You'll think of something? But you aren't a quick thinker!" she scoffed. She was nasty now covering her fear. She turned around, her back facing the two men.
"We all have to make sacrifices to serve the greater good. We are only a few dots creating the big picture of life in the human and magical world," the Elder said quietly.
Within the twinkle of an eye, the young woman swirled around, throwing an energy ball against Peter's chest. It hit him and left a scratch mark on his shirt.
"Ouch," he rubbed his chest. "I'm sorry that you can't handle the truth, but the world is more important than you. It's more important than your love."
"It seems like the only people making sacrifices are we," she replied, defeated, her shoulders sagged.
"Believe me you don't. Ask yourself, what are you ready to give up making life better for everyone, including yourself and the ones you love."
Bianca stared on the ground for a while. When she rose her eyes, they glittered watery as she exchanged a look with Chris. "I can't give up the only thing in my life that means something – not for anyone."
Peter nodded. "I really am sorry. Whatever you may think of me, your love to each other is the one mere thing that keeps up hope." He turned to Chris. "You'll know what to do. Good luck and don't waste the opportunity."
The Elder orbed out, leaving the lovers alone. Bianca had turned away from Chris again. Her head bowed, arms crossed, but rather in an attempt to comfort herself, than in defense.
Chris wasn't sure, but he thought she cried silently. He had never seen her cry before.
He stood up and approached her slowly. She took a deep shuttered breath. Then straightened up. She let her arms drop, but raised her hand again, rubbing her cheek.
"Damn you," she spoke up. Her voice was clear and firm as always. "Damn you," she repeated still not facing him. "Damn you, for making me care, for making me sad. Damn you, for making me feel at all, and damn you for making me fall in love with you."
Chris touched her naked upper arm, lightly brushing his fingers down the length until he reached her hand, entangling their fingers. She turned around looking at their hands. The tiny jewel in her ring hit some light and flashed up.
"Why don't you have faith in me?" Chris asked. "Did I ever let you down?"
"Chris, I will forget you, I will forget us. No, I won't even forget. I will never know that I had forgotten. As soon as you leave for the past, our love is over – forever."
"I will find you. I won't let you go, I promise. All you'll have to do is to fall in love with me again. Can you do that? I won't give up. You won't get rid of me."
She took her hand out of his and hugged him tightly with her arms slung around his waist, her face buried in his shirt above his heart.
He returned the embrace, holding her close, his cheek resting on her soft dark hair.
"I can't stay, Bianca. I need to go and alter history to make sure we'll have the best possible future. We deserve it."
He felt her nod reluctantly. He rocked her lightly, and after a while she raised her head. They looked into each other's eyes for a second until Bianca rose on her tiptoes. She caressed his cheek, bringing their faces closer.
"I will fall in love you again. No matter how often time will change."
She kissed his lips softly. When they parted she smiled a bit, sadly but encouraging, before meeting again for another more affectionate kiss.