Chapter Two
"You used to captivate me by your resonating light, but now I'm bound by the life you left behind. Your face, it haunts my once pleasant dreams. Your voice, it chased away all the sanity in me." Evanescence, "My Immortal"
Somewhere in the Mediterranean, 2033
When visiting Jordan and Phoenix on their secluded island, Chris often liked to spend his afternoons walking the dusty, cobble-stoned streets of their tiny fishing village. The children stared up at him in awe, usually, while the adolescents ignored him. The elders always greeted him with a reverent signor. Younger adults treated him more as an equal, engaging him in conversation in their Italian dialect as they shared a drink in the market. A topic rarely broached in these conversations was Jordan, who they referenced only as la nostra duchessa or la nostra signora di dolore. (Our Duchess or Our Lady of Sorrow) They never questioned how she came to live in the grand villa above them with only her son and a small staff. She seemed a taboo subject; small children were shushed when they inquired into the whereabouts of the father of their companion Riccio (curly). Chris believed that they knew that whatever the circumstances of Jordan's life before them, she was full of grief and pain over it. They probably thought she was a widow, and they wouldn't be far off in Chris's opinion. As he often tried to convince Jordan, the evil within Wyatt had killed the man she married.
On this warm afternoon, as Chris strolled the streets, he caught glimpses of his very distinctive nephew running with the other boys in and out of buildings, playing some chasing game.
Riccio was easy to spot among his olive-skinned playmates, his sun-bleached curls wild and bright and the tanned skin of his bare chest still lighter than that of his friends. Phoenix had a distinctive laugh, as well, always had, and when he would catch up with a playmate and tag him, he would throw his head back and laugh with innocent glee.
Like his island companions, Phoenix never asked about his father: he enjoyed his mama's smile too much to do so. He made brief references to Wyatt's existence occasionally in Chris's solitary company, but never inquired more about just where his daddy was. Chris doubted he would ever ask.
The devotion between mother and son was greater than any Chris had ever seen. It had been evident since Phoenix's conception, and the uncle knew that it was this empathetic bond which spared his mother a curious child's constant questions about his paternity. Phoenix was intensely protective of his mother, and when he sensed her presence entering the village, he would rush to her side, small hand slipping into hers as he led her about.
"Signor," his thoughts were interrupted. He turned around to see an old woman with a loaf of bread tucked in the crook of her arm.
"Hello, ma'am," he greeted in her native language. His ability to speak her language was one he silently thanked his father's memory for every day.
The woman nodded her creased face, eyes smiling reverently from under her scarf.
"Take this to la nostra duchessa, please, signor," she asked, pushing the bread into his hands. "To thank her for helping my granddaughter."
The thought that Jordan had an amazingly capable local cook never crossed Chris's mind as he graciously accepted her gift of gratitude. He did not know what Jordan had done for the girl, but he was sure it was some great deed performed with his sister-in-law's usual subtlety.
"Uncle Chris! Do you wanna play?" Phoenix suddenly called from somewhere in the marketplace. Chris turned around looking for his nephew, but couldn't find his familiar curly head.
"Up here!"
Chris glanced up and found Phoenix hanging upside down above him from the canopy of a local fisherman's stall.
"Phee," Chris chuckled lightly at the boy's plain mischievousness. Phoenix had that excited look in his blue eyes that meant he had an idea; Wyatt had often displayed that look during Round Table meetings. "Get down from there. We should head back to your mama about now. She wants you to read a chapter of Robin Hood before dinner."
"Got it," Phoenix saluted quickly before flipping right side up.
"I'll get a head start and see if you can keep up, alright, Phee?"
The boy nodded enthusiastically before sliding onto the ground. The fisherman laughed at the sudden arrival and handed him a pear before sending him on his way.
As they walked back up towards the villa, Phoenix just a bit behind Chris for now, the mischievous look continued to haunt Chris. Wyatt had displayed that identical look during that fateful Round Table meeting where he had asked Chris to go watch over Jordan and Phoenix while he took the other "knights" (other witches Wyatt considered loyal advisors) to the Underworld to find Zankou. It was that day, talking late into the night while little Phee slept and Jordan worried about her husband, that Chris had realized he was in love with the angel. It had terrified him and exhilarated him at the same time. It had also changed everything.
"Ha!" Phoenix cried, tagging Chris from behind before running ahead. "Caught you, Uncle Chris."
So did your father, Chris thought morbidly, suddenly sick to his stomach.
"That you did, Phee. Hey, I've got a question."
"Shoot!" Phoenix called over his shoulder as he continued to run ahead, determined to beat his uncle.
"What do you think about your Grams coming to visit you for a bit, huh?"
Phoenix stopped short, feet skidding on the pebble-strewn path and kicking up dust. "Really?"
"Yeah, for a little bit."
"I miss Grams," the boy answered, face falling a bit. "Mama says she's too busy to see us bunches."
"Yeah, I know, Phee."
It was not the whole truth, but Jordan could not bring herself to tell her son why it was too dangerous for his grandmother to see him very often, to tell him that his grandmother lived in constant fear of his father.
"Think she'll play with me?"
"Whatever you want," Chris promised honestly. He knew his mother could deny nothing to her only grandson.
"Mama!" Phoenix cried as they mounted the marble steps of the villa, promptly forgetting their earlier conversation. Chris followed Phoenix's gaze up to the balcony where his mother leaned against the stone railing.
"Hey there, handsome," Jordan returned, a soft smile on her lips and brown hair pulled in a loose braid at the nape of her neck, "How were your friends today?"
"Carlo and Cesare went with their papás on their boats in the morning while Silvio and I were studying here," Phoenix shouted continuously as he ducked into the house, taking the stairs of the stairway in the entrance hall two at a time in hopes of meeting his mother more quickly.
A sudden wave of panic crested in Chris's heart at "papá", but Phee continued chattering about subjects other than paternity.
"They got a giant fish, Mama… Carlo called it a branzino"
"Sea bass!" Jordan laughed, meeting Phoenix half-way down the curling stairs and enfolding him in a hug. "A giant one, you say?"
"Yep," Phoenix confirmed. "Signor Cognomi still has it if you wanna see it, Mama."
"Oh, that's all right. Maybe Chef Giovanni will want to see it. You can ask him when he brings out our dinner. Are you staying tonight as well, Christopher?"
"Just for dinner; you can tell Seilya she can change my sheets now," Chris answered, "She's been bugging me about that all week."
Jordan half-smiled, ushering Phoenix, and consequently Chris, up the remaining stairs.
"One chapter before dinner, Phee," Jordan instructed, sending the boy towards his room to retrieve Robin Hood.
"But Mama!" Phoenix whined, "I read two chapters last night!"
"But Phoenix!" Jordan mimicked, "A deal is a deal. One chapter a night before dinner, at least. You can't stockpile chapters for when you don't feel like reading."
"Ma-ma!"
"Leo Phoenix Berkley Halliwell, one chapter, now," Jordan ordered, evenly and calmly, but with the compelling intensity only a mother can employ.
"Yes, Mama," Phoenix complied, moping down the hallway towards his room.
Jordan settled back into the chair she had been resting in before her son had returned home. Chris remained standing, crossing to the railing and looking out towards the ocean breakers. Phoenix soon joined them, a retreating sulk still clouding his little face, intent on his reading.
At dinner, Phoenix commanded most of the conversation, as usual.
"And then Robin Hood grabs a… a… quarter… something…"
"Staff," Jordan supplied, "Quarterstaff."
"Right!" Phee exclaimed, "A quarterstaff. And then he fights with Little John on a log…"
His young voiced faded into the background as Chris studied the dining room around him. It was open air, with heavy curtains restrained above each archway in case of inclement weather. The sun was completing its descent to the west, and the day's heat was fading. A copper fire pit on iron legs sat in a corner, its smoldering coals fighting back the cool sea breeze and adding a pleasant, soothing effect to the entire room.
Chris loved this place, despite the sorrow, past and present, he associated with it. He loved the ocean views, the salt air, the hospitable people, and the simplicity of a life in which the afternoon's conflicts were forgotten by the time the final supper dish had been placed on the table.
"Mama, Uncle Chris says Grams might come visit."
Those words jumped out of the conversation and returned Chris to the here and now.
"Really?" Jordan questioned, eyes jumping up to meet Chris's. "Did he say when?"
Chris apologized with his eyes, realizing he should have discussed it with the mother before informing the son.
"She hasn't decided, yet; she's still trying to work out the details."
Several events had to fall into place in order for Piper to make her way out to her grandson's home, including a diversion for the demons constantly watching her and someone to provide transportation.
"I wish she still came over for dinner like before," Phoenix said, a bit sadly.
Jordan and Chris froze, attention locked on the boy.
"Before what, sweetheart?" Jordan tried cautiously, a faint tremor in her voice.
Phoenix had never before mentioned any events that had taken place prior to the chaos, nor even given any indication that he remembered life before the Mediterranean.
"Before we moved here. When I was a baby… She came to eat with us a lot… I remember her sitting across from me. Where did we live then?"
Jordan blanched, and the tremor traveled from her voice to her hand. She set her fork down before it could make enough noise against the plate for little Phee to notice. Despite her distress, she somehow drew upon the threads of the inner strength she had managed to keep and, with a deep breath, ceased the shaking.
"Much closer to Grams," she offered in a steady voice, placing a now-still hand over her son's. She paused to let that settle into him and then smoothly changed the subject. "Was Chef Giovanni interested in Signor Cognomi's fish?"
"Yup. Went as soon as he was done cooking."
"Good, I thought he would."
Conversation came to a somewhat comfortable lull as the boy absorbed himself in his food and his mother absorbed herself in watching him. Chris felt suddenly like an outsider, even though he was family and they accepted him such. He seemed back in that Magic School dining room at that moment, the morning after realizing his love for his brother's wife. He was watching the king and queen, so wrapped in their world of perfection, dote upon their son and each other. As back then, the exclusion was not deliberate, but natural.
He's starting to remember, Chris thought to himself. He'll start asking questions about Wyatt soon.
Jordan caught Chris's eye, and he knew that she realized how close to remembering Phoenix was. There was a nearly mad fear in her pale green eyes. For not the first time, Chris cursed the biggest result of Wyatt's fall: the gradual loss of Jordan's once stubborn confidence and its replacement by a nearly constant terror.