A/N: Thank you all for the reviews – I don't think I would have tried to work on my writing skills if it hadn't been for the encouragement. BTW, in case you didn't notice, my vision of the future (as in 'No Fate') is decidedly darker than what they hinted at on the show. A departure from canon, I know – but then, aren't all fan fics such?
Providence
Chapter 2
Wyatt Halliwell had turned the world into a landscape of perpetual killing and dying – where one waged a daily battle for survival, and where pain, misery and death ruled supreme. Homes were deserted as the demon activity made 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. It seemed like mankind would soon become extinct, except for one symbol of hope. The Resistance was that beacon of hope shining in the night – faint, but unmistakably there.
– Chronicles of The Charmed Ones, Vol. CCXXX
It was his birthday.
Nineteen years old. He was supposed to be in his freshman year of college. Drinking… …partying…flirting with the opposite sex. Maybe even studying.
Instead Chris was some fifty odd metres below the ground hiding from demons in an abandoned underground mall worrying about the safety of thousands. If you had asked him a year ago what he would be doing on his birthday, it certainly wouldn't have been this. In fact, if anyone had even suggested such a scenario, he would have quietly agreed with them, and then quickly contacted the nearest authorities to have the individual carted away by the little men in white coats.
He picked up the photo frame sitting prominently on the table, one of his family that he had managed to save since that fateful day.
It had practically happened overnight. He still wasn't sure what had happened exactly. One minute, he had been filling out college applications getting ready to go on some on-site campus tours, and then the next – everything went to hell in a hand basket.
Sure, Chris had noticed that Wyatt had seemed to be moodier that year but Chris had just figured that the pressure of being the 'twice blessed' was starting to get to his brother. Chris had asked Wyatt, repeatedly, whether or not things were okay and had nearly had his head snapped off. I'm fine, Chris, his brother would sneer. Chris had shrugged it off believing that if there was really something serious troubling his elder brother, Wy would have told him.
After all – they were brothers. They looked out for each other.
Did I somehow know? Did some part of me see but refuse to face up to the changes happening in my brother? Was I so caught up in my own life, fulfilling my own desires that I blinded myself to all the signs? Where did the brother I know – the one I played hoops with, who always looked out for me at school, the first person who I asked for advice on my first crush – go? He didn't become evil overnight. And if I had known, could I have stopped him before he became be responsible for unleashing upon the world the horrors that we face today?
He had been attending a campus tour at NYU. Not that he was seriously considering attending college so far away. His grandfather had nearly had a conniption when he found out that Chris had applied to a university clear across the country. Chris had reassured his grandfather that he just wanted to see the campus – he had already applied to UCLA and Berkley, which were a hell of a lot closer. NYU had been an afterthought, almost an excuse just to get away for a weekend, really. In fact, he had asked Wy to come along – a kind of last hurrah for the two brothers. His brother had murmured something about being busy at the club, which he had taken over on the death of their mother. Chris hadn't pushed the issue – he knew college was still a touchy subject with his brother. Although their family had reassured Wyatt that they could 'hold down the fort' while he attended college, Wyatt quickly found out that being the 'twice blessed' and leading a normal life were pretty much mutually exclusive.
So when it had come to his turn, Chris had hesitated as well. It hadn't seemed fair to his brother – that because Chris wasn't 'blessed' that he could lead a fairly normal life. It was only after talking to his aunt Phoebe that Chris decided he would attend college. Chris had resolved to make sure he would attend one close to home, and even better, commute to his chosen school so that if his family ever needed him, if his brother needed him…he'd be there.
And so, the day had come for him to visit NYU, and respecting his mother's wish that he lead a 'normal life' as much as possible, he had boarded a plane to New York. Even though he could have orbed there in a heartbeat. Flying had been quite the experience and Chris had resolved to never 'fly' anywhere again after that flight. The cramped seating…horrid food…the terrifying turbulence…the annoyingly chirpy stewardesses. Forget it. Why put himself through all that torture when he could just orb himself wherever he wanted to go? Plus – it saved money. His grandfather had not been pleased when he had called home after landing to tell him the change in plans for the return trip.
"Chris – you can't just orb home! You've already paid for the ticket, anyways."
"But Grandpa," Chris whined, "it'll be so much quicker. And maybe I can get a refund for the trip back."
"Christopher Perry Halliwell! What if someone checks the airline records? How are you going to explain yourself? Your mother wanted you to have a normal life as much as possible. You take that plane, do you hear me?"
Chris heaved a sigh, replying dutifully, "Yes, sir."
He hadn't known it at the time but those had been the last words he had uttered to his grandfather. Instead, resigned to his fate, Chris had boarded the airport shuttle into the city heading directly to the university for his visit.
He had been smiling shyly at the girl at the registrar's office who was helping him sign up for the campus tour. She had been pretty – blue eyes with flame coloured tresses the same shade as a sunset on a warm summer's night. But then the windows had started rattling, the floor shaking. Alarmed, Chris had first thought it was an earthquake. People began screaming, fleeing the building. Unable to fight against the flood of people, he had found himself pushed outside carried along by the crowd.
The sky turned black. He stared up in disbelief as people buffeted him from all sides, running for their lives. The ominous dark clouds quickly covered the sun in a heartbeat, unnaturally creepy, to say the least. He stood there, frozen, as the clouds suddenly opened up unleashing a torrent of chilling rain, immediately drenching him to the bone. And then the rain stopped, as quickly as it had come.
:What the – :
Fire erupted across the skies; burning embers fell down onto the ground, igniting small fires wherever they touched. He heard a loud crack, looking up in time to see a tree branch hurling down on him, he quickly dove to his left. People were streaming out of the now burning buildings, brushing by him without notice as he struggled to pick himself off the ground. He winced as someone stepped on his hand too busy fleeing to notice the teenager sprawled on the earth.
An unholy shriek of anger caused him to clap his hands over his ears. Chris' mouth dropped open in horrified amazement as a fifty foot flying monster whistled by him. As he continued to gape in amazement, more dragons appeared covered in scaly hides and breathing fire continued to swoop down on the terrified population.
It was like he was in a nightmare.
All around him, chaos erupted. He could hear emergency sirens in the distance, people screaming as they ran for cover, car alarms ringing, and glass breaking.
And he stood frozen, relatively untouched by the deadly storm erupting around him.
Shaking himself out of his reverie, he knew that whatever was happening, whatever was going on – it had to do with magic and he wasn't going to able to stop it himself.
And so he orbed to the Manor.
As he materialized into the Manor, Chris felt a chill run down his spine. The ground floor of his home was completely destroyed. Scorch marks streaked the walls and floors, shattered glass from the broken windows littered the ground, and smoldering steel frames was all that was left of the furniture. Chris called weakly, as he stomped out a small fire on the rug, "Grandpa? Wy?"
Outside, he could hear the screams of frightened people in the distance, windows shattering, and the shrieking of demons. Much like the sounds of the New York he had just left. The unmistakable sound of chaos in the air.
Panic set in. "Grandpa! Wy?"
He began to run from room to room, "Grandpa! Wy! Aunt Phoebe! Aunt Paige! Come on, where are you guys?"
Nothing. He ran back into the front hall, the dread like a dead weight in his stomach, weighing him down. Desperate, he called out for his father, "Dad?"
"Chris,"
Chris swung around as the front door opened, "Darryl?"
Running towards the older man, Chris caught him as he stumbled forward into the house. Behind him, Sheila, supported by her two adult sons, was half carried, half dragged into the Manor. Horrified, Chris took in the sight of his family's closest friends, injured… frightened…scared…terrified.
The side of Darryl's face was cut open and blood was gushing from the wound, dripping down his face. His left eye was swollen shut and he was clutching his right side tenderly. Leaning heavily on the teenager, Darryl coughed, sputtering up blood, "Chris – we've got to get out of here. You've got to get us out of here. Before he comes back."
"What's going on? What's happening? I don't understand – where's Grandpa?" Chris asked, frantically. "I was at NYU on a campus tour – where's Wy? What the hell is going on?"
"Chris," Darryl said, slowly. "It's Wyatt. I think he went crazy. The girls – they tried to stop him. Paige told me to get out of here, to get Sheila and the kids out of here. To find you. I came back here on the off chance I'd find you before he does. I knew when this all started you'd come here first."
Chris shook his head, not comprehending, "Before who does? Before what started? I don't understand – where IS everyone?"
Darryl gripped Chris' shoulders in both his hands, so forcefully that Chris winced under Darryl's strength. His eyes searching Chris, Darryl spoke carefully, "Chris – listen to me. Wyatt did this. He did all of this. We have to get out of here. Now. And I need YOU to orb us out of here. Now. Anywhere."
Chris shook his head again, "What do you mean – Wyatt did this? What are you saying? Where's Grandpa? I don't understa –,"
Shaking the teenager so hard his teeth rattled, Darryl roared, "I don't have time to explain. Get us out of here, Chris! Now!"
Still in shock, Chris automatically responded to Darryl's harsh tone and gripped onto Darryl's arm before gently placing his hand on Sheila's back, orbing all of them away from the Manor.
As they began to dematerialize, Chris saw another set of orbs begin to appear and a voice began to speak, "Damn! Never mind – I'll find you later, little brother…You can run, but you can't hide."
He would never again be able to hear his brother's voice without it sending chills down his spine.
"Chris?"
Chris jerked his head up from the photo, startled from his reverie. Turning his head, he smiled sadly, "Hey, Darryl."
"I knocked, but I don't think you heard me," Darryl nodded his greeting.
Chris ran his right hand through his hair, gathering his thoughts. "Yeah, sorry. I was – uh – just remembering..."
"You okay?"
Chris studied the floor. "Some things are better not remembered, you know?"
Darryl pulled out a chair at the table, seating himself, "Deep thoughts aren't allowed on your birthday."
Chris snorted, placing the photo frame carefully back onto the shelf. "Birthday? It seems like ages ago when I use to look forward to my birthday." He sent Darryl a withering look, "Please tell me we're not celebrating it."
Darryl shrugged. "If it were up to me…Look Chris – Sheila has been looking forward to this for ages."
Chris sighed. "I'm sorry, Darryl. I just – I just don't feel like celebrating. I think I'd really like to give it a pass this year."
"Hey, I know things have been…hard…and I wouldn't be doing this to you, except Sheila didn't even tell me about what she'd been planning until today. Or I would have told her to forget it. I know you don't feel like celebrating but it would mean a lot to Sheila if you came for dinner." Darryl paused, before adding confidentially, "And I was told there would be chocolate cake."
Chris let out a small bark of laughter. "Well, if there's chocolate cake, why didn't you just say so?" He gave the other man a small smile, "What time would you like me to be there?"
"How about in an hour?"
Chris nodded as Darryl pushed himself out of his seat, proceeding to the door of Chris' quarters. "And Chris?"
"Yeah, Darryl?"
"Happy birthday."
He waited patiently.
A young woman entered the room.
"You sent for me?"
His dark eyes shimmered with zeal as they focused on her.
Refusing to be intimated she returned his gaze coolly, her chin rising slightly. Her long brown hair covered the scars on her neck. Scars from 'lessonings'. Here, in the constant struggle of demons trying to assert themselves in the hierarchy, it was kill or be killed. And so she had killed.
And she was damn good at it.
In fact, she was so good, Wyatt had taken immediate notice of her. Not only did the assassin seem to have perfected her killing skills, she was unafraid. He had observed her once. Pitted against one of his demons, he had watched her take down an opponent nearly twice her size and twice as powerful magic-wise. She had been incredibly graceful, her movements like poetry and her instincts clearly deadly.
She was a killing machine.
He motioned for her to come closer.
She hesitated, before stepping forward.
"It pains me to have to tell you this," Wyatt paused significantly, making sure he had the Phoenix's full attention before continuing, "Your mother is dead."
He saw the flash of pain flit across her face before she quickly schooled her features. Her tone was soft, "How?"
"She was scouting for me, when she ran into a couple of Resistance fighters. They killed her," Wyatt replied, watching the young woman carefully.
She licked her lips. "Who?"
Wyatt shrugged his shoulders, "My demons are not positive. Everything happened so fast, you know."
Hot with anger, Bianca stared into Wyatt's cold eyes, "I want my revenge. I need my revenge. Who killed my mother?"
"We believe it was my brother," Wyatt responded, evenly.
Immediately, Bianca dropped her eyes to the floor, stunned.
"There, there, my dear. You have nothing to fear. I am not condoning what my brother did. In fact, I am the very opposite of it." Wyatt studied the young woman, his eyes cool, his face expressionless. "I will understand if you feel that you need to avenge your mother's death. Her death was so…unnecessary."
She was too consumed with vengeance to bother wondering why Wyatt was so unconcerned with his brother's life. "And how would I find him? He could be anywhere – he has the ability to orb like yourself, am I correct?"
Wyatt snorted. "Most of the attacks have been concentrated here, in this city. He knows my stronghold is here – he is unlikely to be too far away. I know how his mind works, like he knows mine. It will not be easy. I want you not just to find him, but to find where he and his little friends are hiding. I want to flush them out and make examples of them all."
"And how am I to do that?" Bianca asked, skeptical. "I don't even know how to find them!"
Wyatt waved his hand in annoyance, "That is easily solved. We can set a trap, put you into contact with them – but what I want, no, what I need for you to do, is to eliminate my problem. I have chosen you for a reason. You are a witch and a mortal, and therefore, can pass for an 'innocent.' Chris is unlikely to be suspicious of a fellow, helpless mortal. He and his friends will fall all over themselves to save a fellow mortal. I want you to let them take you back to their base of operations. Find out how many there are, just how big this 'Resistance' is and then report back to me."
"I don't want to be friends with him. I want revenge! No talking – just killing." Bianca scowled, her blood still boiling through her veins.
"My dear," Wyatt explained, almost wearily, "I realize that. But you must also think of my needs. I'm not asking you not to kill him…merely just delay it long enough so that you can garner the information I require. Then you have my permission to do whatever you wish, as long as you return with the information I need." Wyatt smiled indulgently, "I will reward you greatly if you do this for me."
Visions of power dancing in her head, Bianca inclined her head just a touch, "Very well. I will let him live long enough to find out what I can about this Resistance. And then I will make him pay."
"Your enthusiasm is overwhelming, my dear," Wyatt replied sarcastically. "My lieutenant will assist you in helping you orchestrate an opportunity for your first 'meeting' with the Resistance. Remember – I need to know everything about this little rebellion before I can squash it. It has been a thorn in my side for too long."
Bowing slightly, Bianca turned to leave, walking towards the exit. Opening the door, she paused on the threshold, "Of course."
"Oh, and Bianca? Embrace your heritage. It's what your mother would have wanted."
Nodding curtly, she left.
"We've pretty much got only one option. City hall was destroyed during the attacks, but Berkley is still pretty much intact. The problem is Wyatt's using Berkley as a supplies depot. The place is overrunning with demon activity." Les unrolled a map of the campus, his finger stabbing at one of the marks. They were in Chris' quarters, strategizing on the next move. "I did talk to a bunch of kids who were enrolled in the urban planning program and they said maps of the city were kept there for sure."
Chris rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "At least it's on the outskirts of the campus."
"But there's no guarantee that the maps weren't destroyed at some point." Leslie shook his head. "It's a high risk mission with a low possibility of success with the significant probability that what we need won't even be there."
"It's our best option – you said it yourself, we're running out of water," Chris sighed.
"But we could probably find some bottled water elsewhere. We haven't scouted all the abandoned buildings yet. There's a high probability that the strip plazas on the outskirts of the city would have a water supply that we could retrieve relatively safely," Leslie argued. "It's worked before."
Rubbing the back of his neck wearily, Chris slowly shook his head, "That's not the problem. The problem is we need a sustainable water supply. Get Zach to mobilize a scout group and start hitting those strip plazas. We need a back up plan in the meantime until we find our sustainable source."
"Fine," Leslie replied reluctantly as he rolled up the campus map. "I'll get him to organize a team to leave at first light."
"And Les – leave the campus map. Get a small team together, we're going to go get those maps of the city." Chris got up from his chair, stretching his arms above his head. "I want to leave tomorrow night."
Leslie arched an eyebrow in question, "We? I? Am I suppose to understand that you're going on this mission?"
Chris rolled his eyes at Leslie. "Don't give me that look. I need to go. I know the layout of the campus – I was there on a campus tour last year. That map you have is no comparison to someone who actually knows the area. This operation has got to go down smooth and easy."
"Darryl isn't going to like this."
"Darryl doesn't like a lot of things. The fact of the matter is that for this mission to have any chance of success, we're going to need witches to carry it out. It's got to be small, it's got to be fast and most of all, it's got to be smooth." Chris shrugged. "I'll handle Darryl. You just get me a team together. Oh, and make sure you get someone from the scouts who are responsible for monitoring the activity in that area. I want to know everything about that depot and the demon activity there. How many demons are on site, what kind…hell – what they eat, everything."
Nodding, Leslie looked down at his watch. Great, another sleepless night, he thought to himself. "I think that area was assigned to Duncan and his team. I'll need to touch base with them first." He moved towards the door looking over his shoulder at Chris, who was pinning the campus map to his wall. "Give me a couple of hours."
"Fine. I'll be at Darryl's," Chris grimaced, looking pained. "Sheila wants to celebrate my birthday."
"Partying without me? I'm hurt."
"Very funny," Chris shot Leslie an evil look. "After you're done, why don't you join us? I'm told there will be chocolate cake."
"Chocolate cake, eh? How'd Sheila even get a hold of chocolate anyways? She must've traded quite a few rations for it…" Leslie mused absently as he exited. "Make sure you save me a piece. It's not everyday that I get the chance to have chocolate cake."
His friend gone and alone in his quarters again, Chris said wistfully to himself, thinking of happier times, "Me neither."
He gazed outside the window of his suite where the shutters were flung open letting the cold night air whip through the room. He scowled, watching the lightening in the distance and listening to the soft sounds of the rolling thunder as the storm increased in intensity. He crossed his arms, his eyes squinting in the darkness as he tried to gauge how far away the raging storm was and how soon it would be upon them. This would be a terrible and powerful storm, with heavy rain and flooding.
He expected nothing less.
Inside, the room was swathed from ceiling to floor in curtains of black satin and the only furniture in it were several well-padded leather chairs. A fire burned merrily away in the fireplace, bathing the room in a warm glow.
The noise of shuffling feet behind him disturbed him. Turning around slowly, Wyatt cocked his eyebrow at the demon Zankou, his current right hand 'man'. "Well?"
Giving Wyatt a slight bow, the demon straightened, "I have given orders for the demons to alert us at the first sign of any of the humans. They will not engage until I give the order."
"Good," Wyatt replied, evenly. "And you have worked out a plan with our assassin on how to insert her into their midst?"
Zankou nodded. "We will make sure to place her in the Resistance's path. Another 'poor' innocent who managed to escape."
Wyatt inclined his head, dismissing his lieutenant. When Zankou failed to leave, Wyatt looked at him impatiently, "Yes?"
"Why didn't you tell her that you sent her mother to kill your brother? Why pretend that it was the Resistance?" Zankou asked. "What does it matter?"
"Simple – motivation. Now she's personally invested," Wyatt replied, his tone smug. He moved towards a thronelike chair at one end of the room, and seated himself. "Revenge is good for the soul."
"But what if she finds out differently, my lord? What if she finds out it wasn't the Resistance that killed her mother?"
Wyatt lifted his right shoulder in a half shrug, "And what if she does? She's an assassin. It's her job to kill. And if she doesn't, well – she'll know what happened to her mother for failing me."
"Keep me appraised of the situation. This will take care, Zankou. I want it done right."
Zankou bowed. "As you wish, my lord."
Les blinked rapidly, hoping the multiple images of the map would fuse into the one copy he knew was currently studying. Sighing, he rubbed his tired eyes, squinting at the map again. Patiently he waited for the blurry images to meld eventually into the one. Absently picking up a pencil he began to make notes on the paper, circling important strategic areas.
"Quentin said you wanted to see me?"
Les looked up from the map of the terrain around the city and exclaimed, "What the hell happened to you?
Stumbling into the small meeting room in the command centre, the ceiling light revealed a tired looking Duncan. His eyes were sunken, his skin was pale, and there was a nasty looking bruise beginning to form under his right eye. Painfully he limped his way towards Les, taking a seat in the chair across from him. Slowly sinking down into the chair, Duncan replied, wearily, "Our patrol ran into a couple of brute demons. They were a little too close to home for me to leave them be, so we had to take them out. What I didn't realize was they were the initial scouting party for their little group. We ended up being outnumbered two to one."
Les gulped. Brute demons weren't necessarily the smartest of demons, but they were definitely the strongest. Two to one odds were not good odds. "Any casualties?"
Duncan shook his head, "We were damn lucky. Couple of broken arms and I think Eddie broke a few ribs, but otherwise we all made it back. They're in the infirmary right now getting patched up by the whitelighters. "
"Good," Les said, relieved. "No offense, but you sure look like you could use a visit too."
Duncan shrugged, "It can wait. It's mostly bumps and bruises. Besides, Quentin seemed to imply that you wanted to see me about something pretty important."
Les nodded, turning the map around so that Duncan could look at it right side up. "Chris wants to do a recon mission at the university. I need you to tell me all you know about this area. It falls under your circuit, doesn't it?"
Squinting, Duncan looked at the tiny markings on the map pen marked with a large, red circle. "Yep. That's our territory. Let's see…all the campus buildings are pretty much intact. Wyatt's been using it as some kind of a supplies depot for potion making and other magical artifacts from what we gather. But nothing terribly powerful or important enough for us to risk our lives. All the good stuff is probably kept at his stronghold in the east."
Grabbing a pencil from the surface of the desk, Les began to scribble on a piece of paper, "How many demons? What are the shifts like? Are there regular patrols?"
Rubbing his eyes, Duncan counted off, "I'd say there's about ten demons that guard the main building – the library, I think. And teams of two stationed at each of the other ones. We think there are two shifts a day. They don't really expect any trouble, considering they're not really guarding anything too important. I haven't run into any patrols on the ground. They stick to sentry duty on the rooftop of the buildings, which gives them really good vantage points over the surrounding area. There could be more demons inside, but I wouldn't know how many."
Leslie stroked his chin thoughtfully, as he muttered, "Good, good."
"Can I ask what this is all about?" Duncan inquired. "There's nothing there, is there? Did Chris get some intel from some of our sources?"
Shaking his head, Les replied, "Nah. We're thinking about doing a recon mission to retrieve some documents from the library. We're hoping that the maps of the city are still intact."
"Maps?" Duncan queried, bewildered. "I don't understand. Don't we have enough maps?" He waved his hand around the room, indicating the various city maps pinned against the walls.
"Not these ones," Les replied, evenly. "Look, I need to put a team together to go in there. Can you recommend someone from your team? I need someone who knows the area like the back of their hand. And someone who knows the guard shifts. And they need to be able to keep a cool head. I can't be babysitting anyone for this one."
Raising his eyebrow at Les' list of requirements, Duncan responded, dryly, "Well – I guess that'd be me, then."
Les nodded, grimly. "I suspected so. Go get some rest. I need to talk to Chris but I think we'll be moving out in 36 hours. Be ready."
"Will do."
Les went looking for Chris and found him in the other small meeting room in the command centre. Glancing at his watch, Les knocked on the open door to get his friend's attention. "Hey."
Chris looked up from the pile of papers his nose was currently buried in. "I know I said we'd talk about the water situation now, but can you give me a couple more hours? I'm just in the middle of something."
"No can do, kemosabe."
Shooting Les a dirty look, Chris chose to ignore his friend's teasing, "Fine. Pull up a chair and we'll discuss it now. Make it quick though – I really have to get back to this."
Not budging from his position of leaning on the door, Les shook his head, "I'm not here to talk about our drinking water situation. I've got the basic plan all worked out. We can discuss it later. There's something way more important."
Puzzled, Chris asked, "That being?"
"I'm here to make sure you keep your promise."
Mystified, Chris stared at his friend for a full minute before it hit him, "Dinner!" smacking his forehead with his open palm.
"It IS your birthday. And Sheila's expecting you."
Chris groaned, "Do you have to remind me?"
Les' smile took on a gloating quality, "Sheila really needs this. With DJ and his brother doing reconnaissance for you, she can't communicate with them. I think she needs to feel busy."
His eyes flashing with regret, Chris momentarily lapsed, "I never should have sent them. I should have sent someone else to do the demon recon at L.A."
Les shrugged. "You needed someone you trusted. And someone who could act as your unfettered hand. They were the best choice. The only choice. They're good guys and they can hold their own. They'll be fine."
"Still doesn't mean it was the right one," Chris replied, gloomily. "This recon work means total silence for three weeks with them just checking in as protocol."
"And what if you hadn't sent them? How would DJ have felt? He wants to contribute, just as much as Darryl or any other person in the Resistance. Everyone has needs, Chris. And DJ needed this mission. Hell, he came to you. He volunteered for the bloody mission as soon as we started brainstorming. And there was no way his brother was going to let him go it alone. Sheila understands. Don't beat yourself up over it." Les counseled. "Enough depressing talk…let's go. Or we're going to be late. And I'm pretty sure Sheila won't understand that!"
Shaking off his misgivings, Chris shoved his chair back and got to his feet. "You're right."
Cracking his million-dollar smile, Les winked, "I usually am, boss man."
Chris just sighed.
To be continued…
A/N: I'm adding an extra little note for those who recently reviewed Redundant since there seems to be a common theme in the reviews – I appreciate the constructive criticism and promise to revisit the story in response to your comments after I finish getting this one out of my system. It may just be an added 'epilogue' though. I guess we'll see where my muse takes me.
