A/N: Thank you all so much for your reviews! These are really helping me to keep motivated with writing as quickly as possible. So please, keep reviewing, if only to nag me to keep posting. BTW, my vision of the future in this chapter is different than the glimpses we got on the show, but I figure, since when does fan fic ever follow canon anyways?
Chapter 3:
Chilling rain poured from a leaden sky, making it impossible to see more than a foot ahead. Fortunately, there was little in the way of lightning; however, the wind and the sheet of rain more than made up for that lack. It was like a curtain of gray had been lowered over the remains of the city.
Shivering, Chris hid under a broken doorway of one of the many deserted homes on the street. The roof of the home was gone, the frame of the house barely standing. But it was the best place for shelter that Chris could find within a mile radius.
Wrapped in a worn blanket he had found in the streets, he was already soaked to the skin. The rain had found its way in through every opening, sending unexpected trickles of chills down his arms and back, and his exposed face got the full brunt of the weather. Worse, the material of the blanket soaked up the water, resulting in a dead weight on his shoulders. But still, it was better than being pelted by the fierce rainstorm without any protection at all.
It had taken him a half an hour to get his bearings. It still amazed him how similar the ruins of buildings looked compared to one another. When he finally realized he was a good two hours by foot away from home base, the rain had started. Quickly escalating into a thunderstorm, Chris had sought shelter in the closest building at hand. He glanced over his shoulder at the crumbling walls of the house. Remnants of photos and pictures hung haphazardly on the walls and littered the scorched floors of the house, proving that this had once been someone's cherished home.
Homes were deserted in the future, the demon activity making it too dangerous for any innocent to live above ground. Most of the innocents who had fled Wyatt's demons had taken shelter underground with the Resistance. However, there were those who were too scared to muster any resistance to Wyatt and his army of demons. Those that bowed down to Wyatt's dominance were directed to labour for Wyatt and his demons. After all, evil still needed to feed. The mortals tilled the fields, minded the herds and served the demons. Only after this service was done would they be able to farm the land for food for themselves and their families. It worked to Wyatt's advantage because a hungry man was more concerned with filling his belly with food, then with an attempt to overthrow a tyrant.
Not that the Resistance had been much better off. Foraging for food was one of the fundamental obstacles for the Resistance. Dodging Wyatt's armies of demons and searching for food consumed most of the Resistance's resources. Even with everyone on strict rations, there was never enough food or water.
Thinking of food, Chris' stomach growled. He couldn't remember the last time he had something to eat. He ignored it. He had been spoiled in the past, eating whenever and whatever he wanted, rummaging through the manor's refrigerator at all times of the night. It was time to fall back on old habits.
Chris wished he could just orb to the home base of the Resistance. He snickered to himself softly. It figured. After all, he had been the one that made sure no one could orb into home base. The advantage had been that no demons could shimmer into the base as well, the primary purpose of the spell. The disadvantage was neither could he or any of the other Resistance fighters who could orb or teleport.
At the time, it had seemed a fair trade off, Chris mused. Murdered in our sleep, or a little bit more exercise for everyone.
The Resistance hadn't been able to fully cloak the location of its base, so the demons knew where it was, approximately. The magic around the base that prevented orbing or shimmering, forced everyone to orb or shimmer to just outside of the area. Which was where Chris was. Unfortunately, that made the territory a hot bed of demon activity; the ring of land just outside the protected area overflowed with demons, who hoped to catch Resistance fighters or scouts trying to make their way back to home base. So far, he had been lucky, as he had managed to avoid being spotted.
Chris glanced up at the sky again, but it didn't appear that the rain would be letting up any time soon. He had two choices, to wait out the rain, or push forward. Darkness was beginning to fall, making it that much more difficult for him to see. But it also meant it made it that much more difficult for him to be seen as well. Chris sighed. As much as he hated to go back out into the middle of the rainstorm, Chris acknowledged that the darkness would probably help cloak his movements. Who knew when the rain would let up anyways?
Chris gathered the blanket around him to form a hood over his head, and then plunged forward from the relative safety of his shelter into the enveloping darkness. Just another twenty blocks...
"Hell?" Stunned, Leo abruptly sat down on the couch behind him. "Are you sure?"
Piper nodded. "Leo, I know you're still angry with Barbas, and that you've been chasing him, but I need you here right now. We need to rescue our son. I cannot believe that his fate was to come from the future, sacrifice himself for his family and then spend eternity in the pits of hell!"
Absorbing Piper's words, Leo shook his head. "Our son, I failed him, Piper. Again. Always." Burying his head in his heads, Leo slumped forward, defeated. It seemed he was destined to be a bad father to his second son.
Piper's heart ached for her husband. Kneeling in front of him, Piper gathered his hands in hers, pressing her lips to his palms. Her head bowed, touching her forehead to his, feeling his pain and her own as they both reeled under the news of Chris' fate.
Phoebe exchanged a worried glance with Paige, who came forward, placing a comforting hand on each of the grieving parents' shoulders.
"Leo, snap out of it. Your family needs you. Chris needs you. We need to know why the Elders sent Chris to hell. You need to go to them, so that we can get them to reverse their decision." Paige pleaded.
Piper nodded, "I'll go with you." Seeing the look on Leo's face, she held her hand up in front of him, "This isn't negotiable Leo."
Straightening his shoulders, Leo nodded, "We need someone to look after the boys while we sort all this out..."
"I'll call dad." Phoebe rushed from the room.
"I think I'll go and try to find something of Chris' to scry with, in case the Elders..." Paige trailed off, not wanted to suggest the idea. "We might be able to find him that way...I'll go check his room at P3." Paige orbed from the attic.
Left alone, Piper turned towards Leo, hugging her arms around herself. "We need to talk to the Elders. Privately. Let's go. Phoebe can look after the kids for a bit."
"Piper..." Leo touched her hand, uncertain.
Piper looked into Leo's eyes, "I won't let our son stay there, Leo. I won't. I don't care what the Elders say. It's not right; it's not fair. If we can't get him out..."
Leo pulled her into his arms, "That's not an option. Don't even think it, Piper."
And they orbed from the attic together.
Paige materialized in P3, and immediately headed to the back room, where Chris had been staying while he had been in the past. Or was it their present? Shrugging, Paige ignored the complexities of time travel, and focused on her goal. Reaching for the doorknob, she opened the door to the back room, and brought herself up short as she took in the state of the room.
Slowly, Paige walked into the room, her eyes running over the walls, desk and couch for any thing that could be used to link to Chris. The room was clean; tidy even. Obviously her nephew had taken it upon himself to clean up his mess before leaving for what, they had all thought at the time, back to his place in the future. His room was devoid of any trace that Chris had ever lived there, it almost seemed like he had never existed.
Seeing nothing, Paige moved over to the desk to search its contents. She sank into the chair and was about to pull open the top drawer, when she noticed something. A small drop of water formed on the surface of the desk.
And then another formed.
The drops quickly formed into a pool, as tears streamed down Paige's face, falling onto the clean, polished surface of the desk. The desk that Chris had used. How often had she and her sisters found him hunched over the desk, papers scattered carelessly across it, which he would futilely try to cover when they appeared? Future consequences, he would say and the sisters would roll their eyes at him.
Drawing in a shaky breath, Paige realized that she couldn't stop crying. She wept in silence, only the shaking of her shoulders betraying her. Holding her head in her hands, Paige wept for her nephew, both adult and baby.
Since coming into her powers, Paige had embraced her wiccan side whole heartedly. She had been given a chance to help others. Destiny had brought her to her sisters, and, in turn, them to the innocents who needed their help; she had learned that there was a cosmic order to the universe.
Penny Halliwell's words still rang in her head, there's a reason for this too. You have to trust in your destiny.
And she had. Paige HAD believed in destiny, in fate. Until...
Destiny had brought Chris to his death.
And it was at that moment, the moment when Paige realized that destiny and fate didn't always side on the side of good, that Paige's world crumbled around her. Suddenly, Paige found herself questioning everything that she believed in, everything that she was. How could she keep clinging to the notions of destiny and fate, when it seemed that destiny and fate had turned its back on Chris? Or worse, was she to believe that Chris' destiny was an early death and his fate was to spend eternity in Hell?
Paige knew the answers to her questions couldn't be answered right now; she pushed her doubts to the back of her mind. Shaken to the core, Paige tried to concentrate at the task at hand. Later, she would question her notion of destiny, her belief in fate. Right now, she had a nephew to save.
Wiping the tears furiously from her face with the back of her hand, Paige drew in another shaky breath, and jerked the top drawer of the desk open. She peered down into the drawer, hoping to find something that Chris had forgotten to remove. "The little bugger..." Paige muttered to herself, sniffling, "Of course, he has to be so neurotic that he doesn't trust us enough to leave ANYTHING behind that could change the future..."
Frustrated, Paige slammed the drawer shut, and moved on to the next one, and then the next one. Again nothing. About to slam the last drawer shut again, Paige paused. A piece of paper, the corner just peeking out from behind the drawer, was stuck between the back of the desk and drawer, caught her attention. Paydirt, Paige thought.
"Paper!" Paige commanded, as the paper orbed to her hand. Smoothing out the creases, Paige inspected her find. Scribbles of dates and complex math calculations littered the page. Circled in bold black ink was the month of February. Chris' conception month, Paige realized, satisfied. No doubt about it, the handwriting on this piece of paper must be Chris'. Must have been when he was looking at those star charts, trying to figure out when he was conceived.
Not as personal as keys, but it would have to do.
Paige sighed, and tucking the paper carefully into her pocket, she orbed back to the manor.
"Hi? Dad? Look, we really need you to come over and watch your grandkids...You can be here in an hour? Great! Thanks Daddy. See you soon." Phoebe smiled, and hung up the phone. About to make her way back to the attic, she paused, hearing a knock at the door.
Who could be visiting the manor? Phoebe thought. Damn, I hope it's not one of those door-to-door salesmen. As she passed through the hall from the kitchen to the door, she glanced at the nephews who were quietly sleeping in the playpen, reassuring herself that they were both still okay.
At the sound of the doorbell, Phoebe yanked open the front door, "Okay, okay, hold your horses. Look, whatever you're selling, I'm not buying so you can just turn around and get your...cute..ah," Phoebe trailed off, confronted by the handsome man that filled the doorway.
"Sorry?" The man questioned, and then held out his hand, "Hi, I'm Leslie. You were expecting me? Good to meet you Phoebe. I can call you Phoebe, right?"
Taking his hand in hers, to give it a quick shake, she felt something. Damn empathic powers, Phoebe thought. That actually was the one power she hadn't been missing. Why couldn't she have earned back her levitation or premonition powers first?
A desire to help and an overwhelming sense of warmth were the most prevalent emotions she could pick up from him. And...apprehension?
"Uh, Phoebe?" Leslie quickly pulled his hand and quirked his eyebrow at her. "Elise mentioned that I was going to stop by, right? How are the rats?"
"Rats, what rats? Elise said you were going to stop by?" Phoebe continued to stare at the man, her mind running back to the phone conversation she had had earlier with her boss.
Hello? Hi Elise. What? You found a ghostwriter already? ...uhhhh, okay, well, now's not a good time to met her...What? Come over here? No, I don't think that's a good idea. It's just...we're uh, getting the house fumigated.
As the memory of the phone conversation came back, Phoebe realized who was standing in her doorway. "Leslie! You're the ghostwriter! I'm sorry, it's just that I thought, I mean when Elise mentioned your name, I just assumed..."
"You thought I was a woman, huh?" Leslie smiled, "So does this mean you weren't expecting me?"
"Look...now's really not a good time..." Phoebe started, and then jumped back in alarm, as Leslie shouldered his way past her into the living room. "Hey, hey wait! Where do you think you're going?"
Leslie stopped in front of the playpen, glancing down at the two children, innocently asleep. He glanced over his shoulder, as Phoebe came hurrying up behind him. "I figure if we're going to have a conversation, we could at least have it inside instead of on your front door step. I know I'm not from San Francisco and all, but are manners really so different here that you don't invite people in before you try to get rid of them?"
Phoebe sighed. "Look, it's not that I want to get rid of you..." At Leslie's skeptical look, Phoebe caved. "Okay, okay, I want to get rid of you, but it's just temporary. I just don't have time for this. I'll call Elise and sort it all out."
"Before you do, would you at least do me the favour of reading this?" Leslie reached into his pocket and pulled out two pieces of paper, one on bubble gum pink stationary. Motioning her to sit down, he handed over the papers. "See if you like it."
Taking the papers in her hand, Phoebe sat down on the couch and began to read them. "Where did you get this letter?" she asked, suspiciously, as she began to read the pink stationary. As she recognized the letter from one of the ones she had been perusing the last time she was in her office, "You...you took this from my desk!" Phoebe sputtered.
Leslie rolled his eyes. "Just read the column, okay?" Bending over the playpen, Leslie stared down at the toddler and baby. "Do you mind?" Leslie asked, motioning with his hands towards the baby. "I love kids. My sister's got a bunch of them."
"Uh, sure..." Phoebe said, distractedly, absorbed in reading Leslie's column. The advice was exactly what she would have given! The writing style was a bit off, but nothing she couldn't fix in under 10 minutes. "This is amazing, it's almost exactly how I would have answered her...how did you..." Phoebe trailed off, as turning towards Leslie, she saw him holding baby Chris.
"Oh my god! Give him back!" Phoebe squealed, snatching the baby out of Leslie's hold. As she grabbed the baby, her right hand brushed Leslie's and her powers flared up again.
Awe. Admiration. Protectiveness.
Respect.
"Hey, sorry. I thought you'd be okay with me holding the baby. I did ask you, remember?" Leslie looked at Phoebe strangely. "I would never hurt your nephew, ever."
Awe? Admiration? Respect? For a baby? Confused, Phoebe stared at Leslie. She could feel that he was telling her the truth, but his emotions didn't make any sense to her. And how... "How did you know he was my nephew?"
"Elise mentioned it to me, when she asked me to be your ghost writer." Leslie shrugged. "So what did you think of the column? I've read all your past columns, so that I could get the tone just right. I think you'll find that you won't need to spend as much time on your column, if you let me ghost write it, and you could just review it."
Phoebe tightened her hold on baby Chris as he began to squirm. "It's great. Really. It's just...I'm not sure I'm ready to let go." Phoebe said, softly, looking down at her nephew.
"You're not letting go, Phoebe. You're putting your family first. There's no harm in that." Leslie stated. "Look Phoebe. The last thing that I want to do is make things harder for you than they already are. I want to help you and your family. But if you don't want me to ghost write for you, then that's cool. But I'm glad you thought the column was great. I have to admit, I was a little bit afraid of meeting you, let alone ghost writing for you. After all, you're one of San Francisco's favourite columnists."
At least that explained the apprehension she had felt earlier. Phoebe looked up into Leslie's eyes. Her empathic powers told her to trust this man. "All right. You can write the column. But you need to run them by me first before you even think about giving them to Elise for print."
"Agreed." Leslie smiled. "I won't let you down, Phoebe. I promise."
"What are we doing here Leo? I thought we were going to see the Elders." Piper asked, puzzled, as they materialized at the site of the Tribunal Council.
"I'm not sure. I was orbing to them, when I felt this pull..." Leo replied, pushing Piper behind him protectively.
Two of the floating heads from the Tribunal Council appeared, both of them Elders.
"We have brought you here to answer the questions that you have about your son," Adair said, glancing at the other floating head. "We knew you would have questions sooner or later."
Aramis, the other Elder, nodded his agreement. "You seek answers about your son, Christopher Halliwell. But are you prepared for the consequences?"
Leo and Piper looked at each other, their eyes signaling to each other their silent agreement. Leo stepped forward, "We are. Please, what do you know about our son? Why did he choose to go to Hell?"
"Watch," was Adair's response, as the circle of truth lit up and an image of Chris, in front of the Tribunal appeared. His shoulders back, his head held high, he looked like a young man ready to meet his fate head on.
This is a choice about my fate. It's my reward, right? So technically, I should be able to choose a different option, one that you didn't offer me...As long as it's acceptable to all of you, of course.
Then I choose to take Leo's place. To accept the punishment on his behalf. You said you wanted to make an example of him. To show everyone that you can't try to tip the balance between good and evil for your own reasons. Do you really need to make an example out of him specifically? What's the difference if I'm the one you make an example of? The message is still the same. You said you were giving me a chance to decide my fate as my reward. Well, I'm holding you to it.
And the image ended.
"I don't understand..." Piper looked up at the Elders, confused. "What did he mean, 'take Leo's place'?"
"Exactly what the circle of truth showed you. When Leo took matters into his own hands and killed one of our own, there were consequences. Did you really think that you could destroy an Elder and we would ignore it?" Aramis explained, gently. "We are responsible for the balance between good and evil, and we cannot allow any one to tip the scales either way for their own personal gain. No matter how much we sympathize with you."
"Personal gain? Personal gain?" Piper's voice rose indignantly, pushing her way past Leo, to stare vehemently at the Aramis and Adair. "How is saving Wyatt, a baby, our son, personal gain? How is putting the world back the way it's suppose to be, personal gain?"
"Piper." Leo placed his hand on her arm, restraining her. "Chris said he was taking my place. That he chose to go to Hell in my place. Is that true?"
Both floating heads nodded.
Leo drew in a shuddering breath. "It's not right. You should never have let him do that. This is my responsibility. I want you to reverse this right now. I accept my punishment. Just give us back our son."
Leo shushed Piper, as she whirled around with a cry of dismay. "This is our son, Piper. I'm not going to let him suffer for my sins. Please don't ask me to." Leo pleaded, his eyes searched Piper's for understanding. Before Piper could react, the Elders spoke.
"We are sorry Leo, but what's done is done. When the Tribunal metes out a sentence, it must be carried through. If we reversed our decision, it would set a precedent that we cannot condone." Adair and Aramis glanced at each other again. "Your son...is a good man."
And with that, the two heads disappeared.
"No!" Leo shouted. "No! You can't do this! Come back, come back, oh god...please, come back."
Disbelief and grief raged inside Leo, as he met his wife's grief-stricken eyes. "We'll get him back, Piper. I promise, we'll get him back."
To be continued.
A/N: Just a little warning, I suspect this will be a fairly long story. I had put together a one page story outline before I started writing, so that I would know where I wanted the story to go, but I've only covered 4 lines from that outline so far and I'm already on chapter 3.