BEFORE NIGHT AWAKENS
By Sickle Sword
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Disclaimer: Don't own anything yadda yadda yadda
A/N: I'm thrilled to say that I finally updated and that this chapter is a long one! Again, very angsty, but as you probably realized already- this is the main genre of this story..
rafiki – Thank you! I love it that you love the story! And if you say that I'm a good writer, who am I to disagree?
AK8 – If you thought the previous one was sad, just wait for this one. . . All I have to say to my defense is- well- I was depressed!
denna5- Still waiting to read your story! I'm sure it's gonna be great!
Nemesis' Arrow- Welcomed happily to the Holy Land!
It should have been me who had told him the truth, even when I didn't know what the meaning of the truth is, for I have lived in a lie. I should have held him close to my arms and closer to my heart and even when he chose to go away, I should have followed. It should have been me who died. Not him.
Chapter 8: On Eagle's Wings
You hear the girls talking about something, but your mind is already free, it is no longer locked in this gloomy side of earth, but you can feel the breeze in China holding you hard against its warmness, and you melt.
Only shattered words are reaching your ear "rainy weather", "Titans" and "Chris". They are talking about you. But you can't force your mind to come back to the land of living, it had chosen to be away so you will not feel the pain of today, the pain that is now slicing your body like being stabbed by the pieces of the Source. You can feel one of them getting closer. Probably Phoebe, your mind figures, and you really don't care. She can come close as much as she wants, she can never come close enough.
She calls you, but you choose to ignore it. The practical side of your mind is yelling at you. You are scaring them. You are scaring yourself. However, this is all you can do for now, let your mind scream, and continue to be engulfed by the nothing.
"CHRIS" She screams to your ear, and you are forced to face her. To face reality.
"What?" you moan with a hoarse voice, hoping that they wouldn't notice. But you know they already did. They always do.
"Are you ok, Sweetie?" Piper, your mother asks. Sweetie. You haven't heard her call you like that for so long. So long. But you don't need it today, you go harsh on yourself, you can't freak out like that every year. You are supposed to be detached, and not to let them get under your skin. The plain fact is, however, that if they weren't your family, you were already their best friend. But they are who they are and you are who you are. And that changes everything. You can't come clean with your thoughts, no matter how much you want to. There is too much risk.
"Yeah, I'm fine" you lie, like you have lied to them so many times during the last year, during their last year. You say it naturally. You already know that it doesn't matter what you say, the nuance of how you say it does. And you had a lot of practice in this territory. You hope they bought it. You hope they didn't.
Aunt Phoebe puts her hand on you, and you feel warmth coming from her, to your heart. She cares about you, she cared about you, you remind yourself. Now, she is just a stranger. Who coincidently cares.
You feel her hand slipping in shock, and you know she had seen something she wasn't supposed to. Something that you had fought so many times to hide from them. You just know. How? You don't have a clue.
You look at her kind face that are now twisted in horror, and wonder what it was that shocked her so much. Which part of your life had she envision? Which part of the death of your soul had she seen?
And in the end, all that matters is that you will keep living, not your soul. It doesn't matter how or why or even for how longer, only- for a moment more. And it's already like your mini-fight, your way to prove the universe it can't simply throw things at you and expect you to handle them. There are limits to a human being, even if he doesn't know that sometimes. And you have just reached your limits.
Your gaze is held on her, trying to crack her, to get premonition of what she had seen. Only once you managed to do it, only at the bed of death when you had nothing to lose, you let your mind hear the whispers of the wind and take you to the future. You have tried to do so many times again, but never succeeded. You will be foolish to think this time was different.
You try anyway. It's not your fault you were born stubborn. It's in your genes.
As you try it, however, you are being washed by the sea of pity which her tears created. You don't need to guess anymore, you know what she saw. Who she saw.
You can't stand it. You get up and orb to the room you got used of calling yours. You lost so much in your life because you couldn't keep the act, couldn't smile and say that everything is alright when every time you saw red, your inner eye wept for the blood your mother lost, and which you couldn't give back. Every time you let the walls that guarded your hear fall, someone you cared about got hurt. You can't let that happen this time. Because if that happens again, you just know, this time will be the final one. No more second chances.
You have to guard your secret. And your soul.
You hear the thunder whirling in anger and wish it to understand and give you some quiet. You have heard too many screams in your life, now, all you want is silence. As if understanding, the whole atmosphere of the room becoming darker, even the wind is tiptoeing far away.
Finally.
You wish to sleep this day over, just like you have done every year since then, but now you have responsibility. You won't just abandon your family. You have done that once, look where it got you.
Voices. Whispers. Steps. Someone is coming. Someones are coming. You don't need them to make a voice to know they were coming. One of the privileges, or curses, of being a whitelighter is the ability to know exactly when they are and what their state is every given minute. Now, they are distressed, confused, want to help you but don't know how. And the truth, you know there isn't a way they can help you, you just want them to go away.
Ha, as if.
Paige is the one who tries to reach you first. They probably thought it would be the best because she had parental issues as well. She sits silently, waiting for you to start talking, but you insist of staying locked. Even if it hurts her now, later she would be thankful.
The silence is stretch to the boundaries of uncomfortable and embarrassment. Probably Paige understands that too and signals her sisters to go. That maybe it will be easier being just the two of you. In a way she's right. It's easier to shut up in two.
"So, Chris, do you like it here?" she begins rambling and your numb mind struggles to understand where is it "here". The past, this century, the idea that you have freedom to do whatever you like and that magic is a secret? What from all those is 'here'?
From the look in her eyes you realize there's no way she knows about you so much. She's probably just trying to get to you in the simplest way, through small talks. She's asking you about your room. They never really bothered to talk with you about anything but work, and so far it worked well. After all, you are their whitelighter, for crying out loud, they are not your therapists. And this is easier that way, treating them like strangers. If they start mothering you any time soon, you will break.
"Yes, it's fine" you say and then have enough "what do you want, Paige?"
"Just to know something" she answers with equal sincerity. It surprises you. You expected her to go away or take offense. You wanted her to do it. You should have known by now, they are not regular people, the Charmed ones, their minds don't work exactly the way most minds do. Damn.
She's looking straight into your eyes, and you feel vulnerable, exposed. You don't like to feel that way, so you turn your gaze from her. Sign of weakness, maybe, but hey, you always knew who and what you are.
"What's it like to be alone?" she, the one who had been a social worker and who seen so much loneliness, asks you. She really has to work on her tact.
Before you have time to think it over, to find an answer that isn't too revealing, preferably cryptic and something to do with the future you can't say much about, your head interferes. "It's lonely".
It's lonely? You curse with the entire defense mechanism you were left. What are you, 6 years old? It's time to get over it, she died and that's it. You're supposed to be strong, you tell yourself, and abruptly look at her angelic face, daring her to say something.
She dares.
More softly this time, she challenges you to answer "when did they pass away?"
They? Your mind question you, and then you remember the illusion that was held that day. For you- it was 'they' as well. Hesitantly, you answer "a while ago". Hoping she won't inquire further so you won't have to lie.
Matter of factly, she captures your wandering eyes and holds them like in charm. You can't get away from the question marks that are spread all over. Then she abruptly asks "Chris, you are in the past. Why aren't you going to meet your parents? To warn them? To save yourself from dying, even?"
"I wasn't conceived yet" you answer, blushing "and besides, I won't jeopardize everything, I can only change one thing. Wyatt". You remember the rules very well for you have memorized them repeatedly. You can't save your parent, only Wyatt. Knowing isn't making it easier, though, only your consciousness is somehow cleared. Not that you care anymore about it.
You see her furrow her brows in confusion "you chose to save Wyatt over you own parents.. . Why?"
Really, why? Why would one choose to save his brother over his parents? Why would one decide that saving the world is more important that saving 3 innocent souls?
And the only answer you can ever reach is- because some things are set into the stone. Others, you try to fight. But you have to choose your fights wisely, or you'll fail in both. And you can't fail, not this time.
In last attempt to get the conversation off the subject it is heading to, you avoid direct answer and reply "you wouldn't understand".
But you know that if you had explained it to her, she just as well might.
"Try me. I'm much more open-minded that people think I am"
"I'm sure you are" you try to flatter her, having the conversation on her "you are a witch. I don't think that if you were any less than open to new ideas you would have decided being one"
"Yeah. . . . who knew, Chris Perry is actually capable of giving compliments" she teases you and you mockingly frown while inside you gloat. You have succeeded in you plan. And then she says "nice try, by the way"
"Nice try?" you try to sound innocent but already know you were busted.
"Yep. But not good enough. So, why did you choose Wyatt?" Paige repeats her question while you move uncomfortably, feeling under investigation. You hate that feeling, she always had the ability to press you to the corner and with her delicate wit to force you answer everything she wanted. You mentally moan. If she only believed what she got out from you, things might have been different today. But she never did. She always assumed you had over-active imagination. Part of it was true- when you realized she wouldn't believe you anyway you began testing her, seeing her reaction to lies. The reaction was the same. Ever since, you have learnt the importance of the lie. And ironically, because you always told her the truth in your past, you could now tell her bluntly lies.
Only, you can't lie to her. You're afraid that if you start repeating old norms, the past . . future. . .will come to haunt you. If it hadn't already.
Compromising, you answer "I can't tell you"
"You know, you can't hide under the excuse of the future forever" she tells you sternly and you know she's right.
"God, I know". You do. You really do. "But I can try"
"Come on, you said I'm open minded, try me"
"Well" the wheels in your head are whirling in full speed in your desperate trial to make something up. Nothing comes to mind. You settle with the truth "it's simple, really. If I save him, maybe I will be able to save her as well"
"Her?"
"Mom"
"And what about you dad?"
You look at her doubtably, inquiring her motives and then say "Yeah, him too. Look, I don't really want to talk about it" you brush her off when you are actually screaming inside, desperate to talk.
Maybe she hears you. She doesn't let got. "What are you thinking about?"
You think for a moment and then mentally shrug. You feel so alone, talking just might help for a while, until you will get your real family, in the future you'll save. "Do you believe in Heaven, Paige?"
You caught her unprepared. Good. So maybe she's not know-it-all all of a sudden. "I don't really know. I guess. Why?"
"Well, I know there's hell for demons and humans who went evil. And then there's the underworld. And if a person is good, he gets the chance to ascend Up There. But what about us? What happens to good witches when they die?"
"Going to the afterlife, I suppose"
"But it's not heaven"
"No. . .it's not. Why does it matter?" she asks and you feel the urge to protect yourself from her. She doesn't understand. She can't.
"I guess it doesn't" you say, defeated. There isn't much point asking her that anyway. It's not like she would know. You simply hoped that it would ease the pain for a while, if someone had told you that there's a place to where the good witches going to. That mom didn't just go into a thin air, forgotten.
"Come on," Paige looks determined, ready to tear the truth out of you if that what it'll take "you wouldn't have asked if you didn't think it was worth mentioning"
She's right. You give in. Again. Who knows, she might tell you the Big Truth after all. At least, her Big Truth. "I don't know. I just want to believe that there's justice in the world. The bad guys suffer for eternity, sure, but they also exist. It's only fair that the good ones would have a picnic at the rest of their NotLife." You struggle not to squirm away. You sound pathetic, all those Grand Plan talks. You thought you grew up, awakened from the ideals in the former fantasy world of yours. But apparently, even with the knowledge that the Good not always wins, you want to know it is. What's wrong with you? Trying to conclude lamely, you ask "do you think there's life in the Afterlife, Paige?"
God, what were you thinking? You beat yourself and avert your eyes, not wishing to see her brows lifted in the familiar way when she's surprised.
Apparently, though, she doesn't think it's such a bad question after all. Either that or she's being polite. You really hope it was the first option. Really.
After a moment of thinking, she answers with a certain voice "of course. Otherwise, from where all the ghosts coming when you need them?"
You chew your lip in hesitant and answer slowly, pale as you reveal another layer of your soul. "They don't always come, aun. . . Paige. Some of them keep ignoring you for years". That was probably why you could never believe Them when they talked about angels.
She goes quiet for s little while, and then answers hesitatingly "Well, I don't know about ghosts, but I Do want you to know that the rest of us are here for you"
Sweet. Unpractical, but sweet.
"You're not in my time, Paige. The Titans. . ." you chock as the memory strikes. The world, your world, is at the edge of collapsing. It's a lie, actually. Sure she lived in your world. But she doesn't have to know details. Sometimes you think that in the way she has lived, she was better not living in the first place. Being a slave in her own body for so many years, until the shock of mom's death awakened her, and not to be released from the guilt for so many years. . .it's amazing. Amazing how she managed to survive for so long. You admired her for that. You still do. Sometimes. When you don't hate her for going and blowing herself up when she has had enough. And taking Aunt Phoebe with her to the grave.
"So not Us as in. . .US.. but other mortals. We're there."
"No, they're not. Mortals are worse than ghosts in listening"
"I'll tell you what. While in this time, why won't you let us listen?" she offers you a present. She doesn't even know what is it that she offers. You hope she never will understand that in your world, giving information costs life. Usually of the one who tells and being crosses. That what he deserves for his stupidity. And you. . you are no better than a unaccustomed kid in your time.
"I wish you could" you say honestly. This time. "But the future. . .it's too risky."
"So don't tell me about the future. Tell me about you. How did your mom die?" she goes straight to the deep water. Brave.
You force out a dry, sad laughter "it's ironic, really. She always wanted to live a normal life. She couldn't have it. But her death . . . only hear death was normal." Maybe not normal per se, but without demon interference and for that, you will always be grateful.
Without saying anything, Paige simply puts her hand on your shoulder, offering comfort that words can't give.
flashback
You see her eyes being closed slowly as you press your hand to her chest, trying to force her to breathe. Only you can't. So you watch her struggle to breathe by herself. Now closer, you can hear her mumble, she's trying to say something to you. You curse yourself for running away because you were angry, you curse the woman who decided to water her plant just above your mother's head and that didn't notice that the flowerpot fell. You curse the mob that thought it was interesting and gathered around you and her. You curse the cruses you told her, denying her parenthood, when you weren't thinking and raged about her, wishing now you could have swallowed them until none remains. You curse your helplessness and Wyatt and Adam for not being here, they probably would have known what to do. And you curse her. Because she's leaving you.
You avert your eyes from her, knowing this is causing her pain but insist of denying her state when you feel something cold. Her hand. You mother died.
"Someone, help, please" you beg to the sky, hoping they will do something only to be left alone in the rain that started pouring on her bare head mercilessly.
The mob that circled you finally go from the wrath of the storm, leaving you alone as the blood keeps pouring at the city streets, chasing with its crimson threads after the living only to be washed away by the rain.
end of flashback
"She had an accident." you tell your nosy aunt "when I came back home that day, I discovered that my dad died when he found out"
The only thing that comforted you for a while was the thought that she was with God, an angel. She deserved to be an angel. And you never once doubted she was one. You hoped dad was with her in the afterlife. She loved him, in that you were sure. You simply were never certain he loved her back.
And then, you realized the truth. It was an accident, really, but nevertheless real. You came home when you saw him. Your father alive.
You panicked. You had the right to. You thought he had died and left you for the final time. You have been already accustomed to his absence so it wasn't hard. Just depressing, really.
He saw you. And you saw him. And then, when the thunder illuminated his face with a blue shudder, making him look like a skeleton, you realized something. All those nights everyone avoided your questions. All those answers that never fulfilled your growing paranoia of being out of the loop. All the time you saw the deceased and now living members of your family covered with blood from head to toe while they never had a single scratch on them. All the years they were healthy all the time. They told you that all those were the figments of your imagination.
They lied.
Terrified from the truth, you ran. You ran until you couldn't keep running, and even then you kept doing it. Till you fell.
Everything was fuzzy and you felt warm and nice like being snuggled in a king-size bed. Your dad was there, and he made all the aches go away. You were so tired to think about it at the time, only grateful.
Then came the explanations that everything was for your own good. Then he told you about magic. Then you discovered he's an angel. And then, there was silence. You were mistaken all along. There wasn't God. Your mom can't be an angel. And even angels can't heal everything. He couldn't heal the ache in your soul.
And while you were drowning in information you never wanted to know in the first place, your dad stretched his immortal wings and left you once again.
"When?" she asks you and you suddenly realize you revealed her valuable information. If by mistake Piper finds out, she will be scared for her life from that date. She won't live. You might end changing her personality. You can't do it. You need to know she's happy with her life, not scared every passing moment.
Thinking quickly, you answer. "Quite a while ago, actually. It's not even today, I just. .. . you know, it suddenly hit me hard. I'm sorry. I'm ok now, really" you lie to her with straight face.
She doesn't believe you but respects your right to privacy. She's always been like that, and you are grateful she hadn't changed.
After few moment of silence, she finally gives up. You give her a lot of credit, lesser than her would have given up sooner. You are not easy to live with, that you know.
Suddenly you realize that her steps are echoing in your mind, hurting you. Your head is about to explode. You are thankful that she walked a moment before you double in pain, you don't want her to know.
Just like she denied from you the truth of her death till the last moments, you know you have to hide from her and your family what is happening to you. You can't afford history to repeat itself. After all, this is what you've came for. To change it. You can't have them die again. Not because of you. Not because of Wyatt and definitely not because you can't fight the damn poison in your veins.
But you would think what to do about it tomorrow. Today, you will simply surrender to the familiar pain. And let it wash away your doubts.
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