It's easier to run
Replacing this pain with something numb
It's so much easier to go
Than face all this pain here all alone
She hugged him when she found out about him being her son. A part of him wanted to melt into her embrace and forget all that had happened since she died...but a part of him was hurt from bringing back all of the memories. He felt...well, it was harsh, he'd admit, but he felt betrayed by Piper.
First of all, she'd left him all on his own at fourteen. But there was no way that he'd let her find that out. And second of all, after all this time she'd mistrusted him and doubted him, suddenly she thought that all of his pain would go away with that one simple hug.
So he hugged her back and pretended that the pain did go away from all those times. But she didn't know about her death...how badly it hurt everyday, even more than all of the memories that Wyatt had destroyed.
Something has been taken from deep inside of me
The secret I've kept locked away no one can ever see
Wounds so deep they never show they never go away
Like moving pictures in my head for years and years they've played
He layed back, leaning on the wall of the P3 office and listening to the booming music in the next room. Tears welled up in hs eyes. Piper didn't even offer for him to spend the night--but that was probably because he'd bolted out the door the instant he knew about her finding out. But it still hurt. Everything still hurt. He saw her everyday now, but the memories had never come back so fresh in his mind until that hug.
What the hell was he thinking? That he could replace the Piper in this time with the mother he'd missed for so long?
He was a fool, and fools were weak. He had to be strong to complete his mission...to save Wyatt...this was no time to falter...
He banged the back of his head on the wall in frustration and sank to his knees.
(If I could change I would take back the pain I would)
(Retrace every wrong move that I made I would)
(If I could stand up and take the blame I would)
(If I could take all the shame to the grave I would)
(If I could change I would take back the pain I would)
(Retrace every wrong move that I made I would)
(If I could stand up and take the blame I would)
(I would take all my shame to the grave)
There was so many memories reeling in his head like the slide projecter from hell. It didn't stop. It just kept playing and playing, mocking him. He wished he could do something--anything--to erase them all. Piper, praising Wyatt; Piper, blind to the evil in Wyatt; and, the most fresh in his mind...
Piper, dead because of Wyatt.
Chris had wanted to kill him. He was hurt, traumatized, and at the young age of fourteen he had made a rash desicion to kill his brother for what he had done. It never happened. Wyatt stopped him...but Wyatt didn't kill him. Correction: Wyatt couldn't kill him. And it wasn't the brotherly bond between the two. Something had protected him, like a barrier...Yes, there had been pain, but never death.
Sometimes he liked to believe that it was his mother up there, helping him.
But now, when he needed help the most, no one could be there for him.
It's easier to run
Replacing this pain with something numb
It's so much easier to go
Than face all this pain here all alone
He found that he was shaking. Everyone was leaving the club and he felt horribly alone. It had never bothered him before, but now it seemed wrong; eerie, even. Why was he shaking? It wasn't cold. He wasn't that angry. And a decent Halliwell never, ever got scared, not if they wanted to be a warrior.
He'd always had a strong exterior. He'd always had too...everyone else in the family was so weak after Wyatt turned. They couldn't handle it, but Chris could...or so he thought.
He never cried when Piper died. The tears wouldn't come. He just stared mindlessly, her screams still ringing in his ears, her blood still seeping down his hands. He was still in shock. How could Wyatt, his role model, everything he'd ever believed in, do this to him? Do this to their mother?
It had been too long, he realized. The tears that he had held in for eight long years finally sprang into his eyes and there was nothing he could do to stop them.
Sometimes I remember the darkness of my past
Bringing back these memories I wish I didn't have
Sometimes I think of letting go and never looking back
And never moving forward so there'd never be a past
He let himself sob. It was dark and empty, there was nobody left to hear him cry. He was angry with himself. Angry that he couldn't heal Piper, angry that he'd split up his parents, angry that he revealed himself, angry that he was so weak. Weak, wracking in sobs, unable to hold them back.
When he finally regained his calm about an hour later, he felt as if part of the weight of this heavy world had been lifted off of his shoulders. He felt relaxed, stable, restored. He could do this. He could save the future. That was his mission: save the world.
His eyelids drooped and he found that he was tired. It'd been a long day...drifting from plane to plane, dying and living, worrying and breaking at last...
(If I could change I would take back the pain I would)
(Retrace every wrong move that I made I would)
(If I could stand up and take the blame I would)
(If I could take all the shame to the grave I would)
(If I could change I would take back the pain I would)
(Retrace every wrong move that I made I would)
(If I could stand up and take the blame I would)
(I would take all my shame to the grave)
Piper felt that she couldn't rest. Her son--her son--was their annoying, neurotic (ah, the overused word of the century) whitelighter from the future. She felt horrible, trying to trace back all the times she'd accused him, mistrusted him, doubted him...even hated him.
She tried to console herself. After all, it wasn't like she knew. But why hadn't she been able to figure it out long before now? His grin, the way he rolled his eyes, the stubborn attitude. All of it was hers. And now it was--would be--her son's.
How would it feel, growing up with an evil brother? Coming back to the past to save your family, let alone the whole rest of the world? Having to pretend that you have no relations whatsoever to your parents, aunts, and baby older brother?
How would it feel to be constantly rejected by the ones you loved, yet have to keep coming back and not giving up the fight?
Just washing it aside
All of the helplessness inside
Pretending I don't feel misplaced
It's so much simpler than change
That's it, she thought. Throwing on a jacket and slipping on her shoes, she headed out into the darkness and started up her car. She was driving to the P3. She was going to try to make it right with her son...if that was even possible at this point.
She arrived and quietly opened the door to the office. Sitting on the ground, fitfully sleeping, was Chris Perry...Halliwell. There were streaks of tears across his face, which seemed so unlike the unfeeling whitelighter she had grown accustomed to. He thrashed in his sleep, muttering, "No, Wyatt, no...Mommy..."
She leaned down next to him, feeling awful. She was the cause of this...He was in pain. He was biting off more than he could chew, and handling it well...until now.
Right then, she did the only thing that felt right. She embraced him and held him in her arms, comforting him.
It's easier to run
Replacing this pain with something numb
It's so much easier to go
Than face all this pain here all alone
"P-Piper..." Chris said, surprised. He didn't pull back, though. He couldn't. Oh, but he must...he couldn't take it. He wouldn't be able to bear leaving her again if he got too attached.
"It's okay, Chris," she soothed. "I'm sorry...I...I didn't know..." She was sobbing herself now.
Chris couldn't cry. He'd never cried in front of his mother before. Ever. He'd always held it in, tried to be strong...
Sometimes only the strongest among us are the ones that can cry. Her voice was fresh in his mind, the words only coming from her mouth days before she had died....She'd been referring to the death of Chris' best friend, murdered by Wyatt. Chris hadn't cried then. Or when Piper had died.
"What's wrong with you?" Piper had demanded. "Why are you so cold and uncaring? Your friend is dead, Chris, dead!"
Chris had pulled away from her, orbing to his room and locking the door.
He couldn't do that now. He sobbed along with Piper, harder than ever before.
It's easier to run
(If I could change I would take back the pain I would)
(Retrace every wrong move that I made)
It's easier to go
(If I could change I would take back the pain I would)
(Retrace every wrong move that I made I would)
(If I could stand up and take the blame I would)
(I would take all my shame to the grave)
There's nothing wrong with you, Chris...you are strong. You can do it. Chris swore that that voice wasn't a memory. It came from the wind, and he was the only one that could hear it. It was his mother, still protecting him from whatever came his way.
He felt a sudden urge to be released, to get away. This wasn't right. This wasn't the mission. His time with Piper was supposed to be over eight years ago.
"I'm sorry, Mom," he whispered, orbing away.
Be strong, Chris.