Disclaimer: I still own nothing from Charmed...Damn!
Starting in this Chapter, I will have something similar to thought- speaking, so there are three things for you to understand. Whenever anything is italicized, that indicates Brett's thoughts. Whenever you anything is in (...) and italicized will be Chris hearing Brett's thoughts. Whenever you see ... and italicized everyone will hear Brett's thoughts.
Chapter Two
He was sprawled on the couch in the attic, looking through the Book when, what he forgot was, a familiar voice suddenly break through the silence that was awkwardly held in the Halliwell manor on a Sunday afternoon.
"Some things never change," it said, hinting of nostalgia, talking more to itself than to anyone else in the room.
Chris suddenly used his whitelighter powers to sense the being in the room and sent him clear across the attic until it hit the wall behind it. Wasting no time, Chris quickly orbed to the potions cabinet and took out several vanquishing potions, and throwing them to where the intruder lay on the ground.
"Chris! Stop! Please!" it screamed. It suddenly came clear to Chris that the voice belonged to a man. It took him a couple of seconds to realize that it said "please." It took even more time to realize that it...he...knew Chris' name.
Looking through the smoke and squinting to see the ashen face, Chris quickly remembered the person already standing up before him. "Oh, my God...Brett?!"
"Yeah...um...nice to see you, too?" the young man said.
"Oh my God!...I thought you were...I always thought...Wyatt..." Chris trailed off, with a laugh of wonder and disbelief before changing to confusion and further, now negative, disbelief. Eyes starting to water, Chris' voice turned cold. "What are you doing here?"
The young man looked down, not being able to keep eye contact in front of Chris. "I came to give warn you that..." Brett's voice faltered now and Chris didn't miss it. "...that Wyatt knows when you are and will be coming for you soon."
"Why? Shouldn't you be off with Wy—"Chris being cut off with the screams of mom and aunts orbing in.
"Chris?! Chris, are you okay?!"
Staring at the boy in front of him, Chris turned back to answer his mom. "Yeah, yeah. I'm okay," he said, before turning back to the other time traveler, pointedly saying in a cold, but wavering tone, a sure and familiar sign, which the younger man didn't miss, that feelings and emotions were warring against each other inside of what was now the Charmed Ones' newest whitelighter. "...I have been for a while."
Phoebe, seeming to be the only one seeing the obvious tension in the room, studied the newcomer standing hunched on one leg, seeming as if he'd fall over at any minute. The man seemed to be about Chris' age, twenty- something-or-other. He had chestnut hair at average length, not too long, like her nephew's, but still able to cast a little shadow over his eyes. Oooh, his eyes... They were the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen. They were even prettier than Chris blue-green ones, and Prue's piercing ones. They seemed to be the color of...everything. One second they were the deepest blue she'd ever seen, then they're were the purest green, then the darkest brownish-hazel, and then the palest grey...almost silver. She noticed he was shorter than Chris, by, at least, a head. He was lean, but not scrawny, even if Chris was obviously larger and taller than he was.
"Um...Chris? Do you want to introduce us to your friend? Is he a friend? I'm only assuming because you've yet to throw him across the room," Paige asked, obviously catching on to her sister, not missing the rather attractive young man-boy, who just so happened to be at the receiving and of one of, what she's come to call after seeing a surprisingly various and quite large number of glares granted by her nephew, Chris' ice dagger ones.
But, something was off. His scowl was deeper now, seeming more of uncertainty rather than obvious dislike or displeasure. His eyes were faltering, waving, shifting, but always fixed on the person before him, who still refused to look at him in the eyes.
"Huh, as far as you know," Chris muttered, quiet enough for only Brett to hear, whose head dropped even lower...if that were possible.
"Excuse me?"
"Nothing...just forget it," he answered, before turning back to the sisters. "This is Brett. He's my fr...fr...he's Wyattt's...he's from the future, like me," he finally finished after sighing after every failed attempt at an answer.
"I see," Paige said awkwardly. "Is there anything else? Like, possibly, who he is, what he is, his connection to you, and more importantly, what he's doing here?"
"Um...I can answer that one, actually," Brett said, speaking up for the first time since the sisters appeared in the attic, finally turning his attention to them instead of Chris' torso. "I'm here to warn Chris about Wyatt." Brett suddenly turned to Chris, and for the first time in over—what was it?—five, six?—years, looked at him, really, truly looked at him. "And to tell him some things about the resistance movement. Plus, I have something to give him."
(Oh, God...Chris...)
Chris blinked. What was that, he thought. It took him a while, but he noticed that one of the voices fighting for consciousness in his mind was actually something a little more familiar.
"Was that you?" Chris asked the not startled boy out loud, as the sisters stared in confusion.
(Oh...God...Chris can hear me...ugh! Damn...how could I forget--?! Um...yeah it's me...)
"But...I thought...I mean, you created the blocking potion...how...?" Chris trailed off, not able to express his confusion to the younger boy in front of him who now regressed further to staring at he ground rather where it had been on his chest.
"Um...Chris? Do you mind filling us in here?" Phoebe asked standing next her two other perplexed sisters.
(Look,...I promise I'll explain...but...please...don't make me...just...not in front of them...)
"But—"
"Chris?"
(...please...)
"But, what about—"
"Please."
It was the desperation and pain in that voice that surprised Chris. He had forgotten how emotional his fri—fellow time traveler truly was, regardless of how many walls and masks he seemed to put up. "Mom, Aunt Phoebe, Aunt Paige...do you think you could leave us alone for a while?" he asked, never taking his eyes of the other boy.
"But—"Paige started, but was cut off by Piper rather calm voice.
"Sure, honey, we'll be right downstairs, if you need us," she said, in a cool and collected tone, speaking for the first time since asking if her son was alright.
All eyes, except for Brett's, turned to stare at her. For the first time, Chris noticed his mother's knowing and calculating gaze, and he hoped she wasn't as intuitive now as he knew she was with Wyatt in the future.
"But—"Phoebe began.
"'But' nothing. Chris knows what he's doing and can take care of himself. Besides, I trust my son," she said calmly before giving a small smile to him. "Come on. Let's get out of here," she continued before herding her sisters out the door.
"But—"
"Out."
"But—"
"Out!"
"Fine!" Phoebe yelled before finally, willingly went through the door before saying, "Chris? We love you sweetie!"
"We'll be downstairs if you need us, okay?" Paige asked before being fully pushed out of the door by Piper.
"Okay, Aunt Paige," he said, before turning his shining eyes to his mother. "Thanks, Mom."
"Anytime," she answered before giving him one last samll smile before walking down the attic stairs.
Chris smiled at what just happened right in fron of him. Wow. His mom, his aunts, they loved him... trusted him. His thoughts were interrupted by a quiet voice, breathing out a question.
"So you told them?" said Brett, his eyes, now back on Chris' torso.
Well, progress, at least. "Actually, no, Phoebe had a vision and busted me. They all eventually found out."
Brett nodded in understanding. A beat. "Even Leo? How's he handling it? How are you?"
"I'm fine. Acutally, um...I got turned into by the spider demon a couple of days ago. Beat the pulp out of him, so I got some of it off my chest," Chris gave a forced laugh and noticed that Brett gave a one, too. It didn't used to be this strained...
Eyes on my chest. Okay, definite progress. "Seriously, though, he's...trying. We're...we're...working it out. He feels bad...but...somehow...it's not making me feel as good as I thought it would be... It's even making me feel a little bit bad," Chris said, mulling it over in his brain. "Just a little."
Brett laughed, for real this time, except filled with a little nostalgia. "You always were the good one."
"Obviously not enough."
Brett visbily stiffened and his gaze dropped back to Chris' torso. "Please, Chris, don't."
"Well, we have to talk about it some time! It's gonna come up again sooner or later, you know," Chris said almost too loudly.
"I know, but...please...not right now."
"Then when?!"
"I...I...I don't know..."
"'I...I...I don't know'" Chris mocked. "Then when will you know?!"
(Please, Chris, please,...don't do this to me...) "Please, Chris, just...not right now," Brett said, eyes fighting off tears that wanted to fall so badly.
"Don't do this to you?!" Chris yelled, disbelieving. "How about what you did to me?! This totally pales in comparison!"
(God...Chris...I still l--) "Please, Chris, not right now...not when I'm like this...not when you can still read my mind..." Chris, couldn't help but hear the despariration in his voice, but couldn't seem to care right now.
"Why? What more secrets could you possibly hide that could hurt me as much as what you did?!" Chris asked yelled, accusingly.
(Oh, please, don't ask that question, Chris. You really don't want to know. Just don't ask that question...) "Chris, just let me go for a walk for a while to clear my head and we can try this again," Brett pleaded, already heading for the door.
"No! We're talking about this now!" Chris yelled, as he telekinetically held Brett about three feet away from the door.
(No! Wyatt! Stop! Please! It hurts! Let me go!) "Chris! Let go! You're hurting me! And...I can't...breathe!" Brett gasped.
Chris was shocked out of his sudden anger, and Brett collapsed to the floor on hands and knees gasping. "What...what did you just think?"
"Nothing," said Brett, rather too quickly, standing up and dusting his clean clothes off, desperate for anything to occupy his brain rather than the memories that were starting to come to the surface.
"What are you hiding? What could possibly be so bad in that head of yours that you wouldn't want me to see?" Chris asked now definitely concerned and more than a little curious.
"STAY OUT OF MY MIND!" Brett yelled as he could now feel Chris desperately grabbing at thoughts and memories rather than just reading the surface.
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry," Chris soothed. "I won't do it again, I promise."
A silence filled the air as both boys tried to calm down.
"I'm also sorry for the, uh...the thing I just did to you. You know, for the choking part," Chris said. This time he was the one with the downcast glance, before he looking up and meeting Brett's eyes for the first time since he sent him flying across the room.
Different colors. So...beautiful.
"It's okay," Brett said, with a quiet voice, still greedily breathing the air around him.
Silence drowned the room again.
"I...uh...I'm not going to insult you by trying to apologized right now,...especially not now, when I can't even give you the whole story...or at least my side...about...what happened," his voice, dejected, his eyes,--so pretty--pleading. Chris heart sank a little when he was reminded of what made him so angry.
Hurt, you mean...
Chris opened his mouth to speak, only to find a hand reach out to stop him.
"Before you say anything, no, I don't want to talk about it right now. Not like...this. Just...give me some time so I won't hit you with my thoughts...or worse...start flashing again," Brett said, with a small, self-deprecating laugh.
Chris nodded in understanding and smiled. His smile turned into a grin when he caught the double meaning, and was hit with a pillow right in the face in surprise, before he could orb out or deflect it. When he looked up, he found that Brett had moved to stand next to the couch and away from the door.
"Not that kind of flashing, and you know it!" Brett said, who was now meeting his gaze with a startling—violet?—of his own, desperately trying to keep an indignant expression, hide a grin, and stop blushing, but pathetically failing at all three.
Chris smiled because he did know. Ever since he was little he knew that his friend—his friend?...definitely—wasn't able to control his powers that well, and would always end up projecting a memory if cornered while he was upset or under pressure.
Chris didn't even realize that Brett had already moved to the door until he spoke up.
"Chris...," Brett's voice said, faltering, uncertain, wanting to tell anything, everything, yet...nothing. It finally settled on something.
"Thank you."
Wonder what for... Chris merely nodded and gave Brett a small smile, which Brett gladly returned, along with locked grateful, yet such sad eyes, now a deep blue, before he walked out, leaving Chris alone with his jumbled thoughts and confused feelings in the attic.
Things were better when you just hated him...
And when was that?...
I want to say thank you to everyone who reviewed so quickly. To be honest, I didn't even think that this wouldn't get any reviews because Chris was...well you'll see. I just want to say thank you. I have most of the story done in my mind, but I do want to have your opinions. Please, don't be afraid to drop a suggestion.
Thanks again.
Devil's Arachangel