Standard Disclaimer

This one is for CrimsonHurricane. I really want to.

Chapter Fifteen

10:15 AM

Chris saw brown hair move, a chiseled body shift and dull eyes open and stare in confusion then realization at him.

"Oh, Chris...hey," it said. "I didn't know you were... I'm sorry. I didn't know they would put me in here," he said. "I'll leave."

"NO!" he snapped. "No...uh...please. Stay," he said more calmly. Chris immediately stepped forward and put his hand on Brett's chest to push him back down. The moment was awkward and both boys flushed slightly and started looking at everything else instead of each other.

After a while Chris got up looking quite shifty, like a startled colt, frightened, but deadly, powerful.

"You...uh...you look good," Chris said uneasily. "I mean...you know...better than yesterday."

Brett smiled sardonically. "Um...thanks. That would be 'cause you're mom and aunts healed me. I think they used potions. Whoever said bruises were sexy obviously didn't have any."

Chris smile was pained. "Why...why didn't you tell me...tell us that...that you were..."

Brett replied instantly. "Because I didn't want to worry you," he said smoothly, or what would have been smoothly if Chris didn't know him better. "Besides, most of these were at least two weeks old anyway."

Sharp eyes fell. "Those were two weeks old? They didn't look like...they should have healed by now..."

Chris saw him shiver and school his expression before replying. "You don't know first aid very well, do you?" Chris shivered when he saw that wry smile, as if he did this often, or that it wasn't surprising to talk about it, his injuries. "I'm healing at the average speed, Chris."

Chris grimaced. "You mean..." He felt something cold go down his spine...again. "How bad was—"

"It was nothing, average," Brett cut him off. "Don't worry though. I've had worse...really."

Chris heart almost tore. "Who...?"

The reply was sharp, cutting, and sardonic. "Who do you think?"

Chris had to lean back on the armoire behind him to keep himself up and not show any tears. He heard Brett sigh.

"Look...can we not talk about that?" he said, only half kidding. "I mean talk about your conversation killers..."

Silence covered the room for what seemed like the longest time.

"You, uh...you still have you're pendant," Chris said tentatively, not looking at him.

Brett smiled, free of that sarcasm he was famous for, innocently. He fingered the jewel. "Yeah, I don't take it off...uh...I didn't want to..." he tried.

A sigh.

"When Wyatt...he told me that you were...you were dead and...I...I didn't want...I couldn't just throw it away..."

Chris smiled then frowned. "Why...why'd you keep it?"

He heard Brett laugh slightly. "I don't know. It was stupid, I guess." He could hear the sad, small smile in Brett's voice. "It reminded me of other times, you know...the manor, Matt, Prue and Porter. Everybody...you..."

Chris felt his stomach flip and he shifted on his feet.

"I...uh...I didn't keep mine."

He looked up and saw Brett's face fall slightly.

"Oh...uh...that's fine." He chuckled. "It's not like I expected you to keep it, you know, after...after Wyatt told you that I...you know...died."

Chris eyes darted away. "He didn't."

He could practically smell the fake smile in the other's voice.

"Oh."

The silence settled over the room again.

Eyes shifted, minds raced, bodies shook, hands trembled, but no words were spoken. Things were never this...strained, this...difficult, and both of them wished for something they didn't know if they really wanted: old times.

"Do...do you want some breakfast or something?" Chris asked after some time. "I...uh...I could make some of the things you like—liked."

"Yeah...uh...that...that would be great." He looked over and Brett's parody of a smile melted into a real one and Chris could have sworn he heard him mutter, "I haven't had one of those in a long time."

"Okay...well...I'll be right back," he said, closing the door behind him and throwing himself at the nearest wall just so he could keep himself up. Breathing deeply and keeping watery eyes at bay, he forced himself off the wall and down the stairs, into the kitchen, wondering if he could make it through cooking an omelet, some bacon, and toast without cutting, burning, or scarring himself in any way.

Picking up the tray, with enough food for two people, he made his way through the dining room and stopped.

"You can come out now, Aunt Phoebe," he said in a small, bored tone.

"Heh, uh...how'd you know I was here?" she asked in a false cheered tone behind him.

Chris turned around to look at her, and she had to fight the urge to just hug him right there. "I sensed you come in a while ago."

Phoebe just nodded, and struggled for something to talk about. "So...uh...that's... that's a lot of food."

Chris shifted slightly, and his face trickled a ghost of a smile. "Yeah, well, Brett can't cook and I wanted some anyway, so...just like old times."

Phoebe didn't think he meant to say that last part.

"So...uh...this," she pointed to the tray, "...this happens—has hap—will hap—whatever, often?"

Chris shifted.

Yeah, he didn't mean to say that.

"Sometimes, you know, some holidays, birthday, or usually after I—um, can we, like, not talk about this," he cut himself off.

Phoebe just nodded, brows furrowed.

"You don't have to worry," he said heavily. "I don't think that Brett wants to talk about the future anymore than he has to, and I'm sure he knows that you guys will want an explanation...so...he'll probably just wait until you come home," he said. "Tell Mom I said 'hi.'"

Phoebe blinked. "How did you..."

He chuckled slightly. "You were thinking it a bit too loud."

She blinked again. "You're a telepath?"

"Uh...yeah," he admitted. "I just forgot to take my blocking potion this morning. It's my weekly dose, so..."

Her eyebrows scrunched up and she didn't know what she was more of: confused, pissed, or proud. "My God! How many powers are you hiding?!"

She knew what she was.

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry that I didn't tell you, but...look, I'm going to have to tell Mom and Aunt Paige tonight anyway when you tell them at lunch, so—"

"What the...? Damn it! You have premonitions, too?!" she griped. "That is so not fair!"

"Aunt Phoebe?" he asked as she started pacing.

"God! Everyone else gets the cool powers around here, and then, then, they get mine also."

"Aunt—Aun—Aunt Phoebe!" he yelled when she didn't stop muttering.

"Sorry. What?" she asked.

"Nothing," he said simply. "I just gotta get upstairs, and, no, I don't have premonitions," he finished as he started his way up. "You were just thinking too loud!"

She sighed and sat down in the sun room again. God, how many secrets did he keep from them. You think after all this time that he'd open up, and now with Brett...

She heard a crash followed by a moan. What the hell could they...

"Aunt Phoebe!" she heard him yell from his room in a scolding tone.

Damn. She didn't mean to think that...wait, scratch that. She did. She just didn't think that she'd be that loud. Speaking of loud, what was that crash about...

"I can still hear you, you know!" he yelled.

Uh...maybe she should go...somewhere...and stop thinking about what her nephew was doing with—

"That would be a good idea!"

Right. So. She was...she was just going to...go. Now.

Yeah.