BLUE
The rain was better here.
Chris smiled almost gingerly as he peered through the misted glass, breathing on it slowly before using his sleeve to rub at the perfect heated circle. The rain was definitely better he decided as he watched the crystal drops patter quietly against the window pane, he intently followed the sapphire rivers of water as they glided down the glass. It was just the kind of person he was, he gave his full attention, utter concentration to he did, even something as meaningless as watching the rain.
Still it was pretty rain.
Purer somehow, bluer.
He shook his head as he thought on it, it was silly figment of his imagination. A lot of things had been changed in the future but the quality of the water was not one of them. His smile changed to a scowl at his memories of the future.
It had been bad, really bad. The kind of bad where he woke up screaming at night. The type of bad where sometimes his ribs started to hurt from unhealed wounds and he found himself shaking in pain.
He wouldn't let it happen, he couldn't let it happen. He'd made a lot of promises: more broken than kept, but this one he was going to see through even if it killed him. And if it didn't, Wyatt probably would.
The window reflected his dark, bloodied memories as he looked vaguely through it, staring at things that existed only in his mind. The rain seemed to form a pattern as he glared at it, sapphire water dissolving into familiar blue orbs.
Wyatt.
Twinkling, star flecked eyes- that looked as if the sky itself had decided to reside itself in the man. Eyes that stared at him with mildly controlled irritation and a little annoyance but nothing more.
Not even the hate that he deserved, that he felt twice over towards Wyatt.
Those eyes were staring at him like he wasn't worth it, like he wasn't a threat. Like his brother knew that he wouldn't succeed.
The window started shake in its frame violently, the glass groaning under the pressure of the power his raging emotions had released. He shook his head wincing at the spider web crack he'd made. The glass was old it needed replacing anyway.
He ran a finger critically along its frame, a gesture that reminded him of when his brother had done the same thing. Only Wyatt had been examining it as a museum. He remembered that vividly well, every gesture, every word his twice-blessed brother had uttered was burnt into his mind. But everything he, himself had done was blurry and overshadowed. Not that he'd made much effort to stop him from taking away the manor. He hadn't been able, not then.
Chris sighed unhappily, moving sharply away from the window, he couldn't even find comfort in his own home anymore, Wyatt had taken that along with everything else he'd every laid his eyes upon. His heart hurt as he thought of his years in Sanctuary, the refuge of the scattered members of the resistance- hiding away from Wyatt.
Every day waking up in fear that his brother was standing over him ready to take him back to whatever pent house he was occupying that week. But it was different now, Wyatt wasn't here and he was surrounded by goodness and joy, still the very memory of the witch was strong enough to send demons at him when ever his eyes flickered shut.
Slumping into a chair Chris let himself be taken by depression. He knew it wasn't healthy, but he was damned if he would do anything to prevent it. If he had an hour of happiness it felt wrong somehow. He didn't feel like he deserved it no matter what he told others about his quest to save the future and his brother, he knew why he was doing this. He was doing this for Chris, number one first, right? He wanted to make a nice comfortable warm cosy family to go back to and he had had that in mind from day one.
Chris lied a lot more than he should. But he had vowed never to lie to himself, because then he'd be just like his brother and he would die before he became that.
Wyatt was blinding himself with lies about a noble quest to get rid of good and evil, or he had at one stage. Maybe he was too far to even do that now.
Chris had been there when the older man had hovered on the edge, a deadly blade that was balanced over justification and oblivion, it was easy to slip from one to the other but near impossible to cross back. Sometimes Chris wondered if he'd already been gone before their mother had been killed and it had all been for show. Or maybe he could have been saved if Chris had tried harder to stop him a little earlier and he was just using that as an excuse.
Of course some things were best not remembered. Like those times when Chris had known vaguely about what his brother was doing and done nothing to stop him. That was worse than being evil, that was when people lied to themselves. It was one of the reasons why Chris wouldn't allow himself to be happy- so he could remember the real selfish reason why he was here and not get blinded by some paper thin quest.
"You saw what happened to Mom? Right little brother? You understand me"
Chris rested his fingers against his aching skull, shivering at the memory that was threatening to overwhelm him.
"They couldn't see past Good and Evil. They fought an endless battle against evil and it never once made any improvement, they died for their beliefs."
"But you're hurting people" he whispered stonily to the empty room, his quiet voice mingling with the one that echoed in his mind. He felt blue eyes burn into him from across the room and as he looked up to meet them defiantly he realised him mistake and lost himself in the memory.
Wyatt was sitting calmly before him his body wavering as Chris fought against the memory. But it was no good, Wyatt had him again.
Blonde hair was brushed back lazily liked he'd used to keep it as he peered coolly at his younger brother. "Mom died because of a demons, but no elder helped her either, did they? They were just as bad as those that hurt her because they did nothing."
Did nothing. The words echoed in his head as he listened to Wyatt again, trying to make himself believe what his brother was saying. But instead the words just made him feel sick to his stomach.
"I killed the demon and then I killed the elders and now I'm going to bring peace. I'm going to make sure no one else gets hurt."
"Maybe that was your aim once." Chris started forcefully burning with the fresh memories of the innocent blood he'd seen. But he withered beneath the cold gaze that was shot his way, insecurity draping over him quickly.
He had needed Wyatt's approval and he'd never contradicted him before, this was new and painfully hard. He stuttered habitually as he continued, hating himself for it. "B-b-b-ut, people are getting hurt and, and y-y-y-our-r hurting them b-b-b-ecause they won't do what you say"
"People get hurt everyday, little brother. If I hurt ten isn't that better than letting a thousand die?" Wyatt's smooth charismatic drawl contradicted his own hesitant mumble mockingly, everything about them mirrored each other. Wyatt was broad and tough while Chris was weedy and too thin, pale blonde locks while Chris was dark. Blue eyes were innocent while Chris's shone dark emerald. If anything he should have been the bad one, or maybe that was just the irony that he seemed to pick out in everything.
Chris had looked at the floor silently.
He was unable to explain to Wyatt the sense of wrong that their actions had roused in him. "I suppose…" he'd whispered doubtful, his words of defiance sticking to the roof of his mouth like tar as his brother smiled happily at his answer. He should have said something, he could have said something…
But he didn't.
Wyatt had beamed at him striding across the attic to roughly enfold the skinny youth in his arm. His knuckles had dug into his head as he grabbed at Chris playfully, the gesture hovered on the edges of threatening-pain rather than teasing. The boy tensed in the heavy arms, but he was used to it, that was just the way the blonde man was. He didn't mind, not really he told himself. Wyatt would never hurt him, just like he wasn't really hurting people.
Chris shivered as his brother strode away contented to the door, the blonde spun around to smile at him a couple of times, moving things around the room with his powers carelessly. His whole body screaming energy and power as he did it, but maybe that was the point?
No, Wyatt was just trying to make everything right, maybe he was going about it the wrong way but he was trying to do it because no one else would, no one else could. He was saving people.
Chris stared at the door thoughtfully as it slammed behind his brother. Yet why didn't he believe it.
Rain started to slam against the windows as he let himself get lost in his thoughts, he was quite simply distraught. Wyatt had cared for him since he was 14, but lately something had changed. He was working all the time, trying to change the world to his own liking. He was doing it all to benefit himself, maybe even a little for Chris. But no one else, his brother had never been into Charity.
But now that Chris knew how he was achieving his plans it left him feeling ill. He should walk away, try to stop Wyatt, help those hurt by his brother because it was the right thing to do. So why wasn't he doing it?
Because he didn't want to. He was scared, he was weak.
Chris touched his check suddenly: it was wet. He ran his fingers in shock up his face, he was crying. He hadn't cried since… that night. Now he was crying because he was worried about his brother?
No it was more than that he realised as he stared blankly outside. Rain slashed in grey sheets against the windows, he had to chose. He couldn't keep hesitating about which side was going to pick. He either did what he knew was right or he did what he knew would be easier.
And maybe he thought as he looked from inside his brother's manor, he was already half way there.
He let himself slid limply to the floor.
He felt cold inside.
Rain was illuminated by a crack of bright lightning as it raced across the sky. The crystals were grey and menacing as he watched them hitting the window like daggers.
Chris bowed his head trying not to look outside suddenly. He rested his forehead against his knees as he brought them up to press against his chest. A position he had often been found in when he was trying to find comfort, but this time he knew he wouldn't find it, not living in Wyatt's shadow and doing nothing. His mom was going to be so disappointed in him.
Another icy tear ran down his face.
"Sorry Wyatt. Sorry Mom"
"Chris?"
"Chris? Chris? Do you think he's dead?"
"Don't be stupid, Paige… but I can't see him breathing? Piper!"
"Shhs, he's coming round."
Chris shot upright suddenly, "Mom?" he croaked hoarsely, his face shadowed with demons. Piper smiled down at him calmly, her hand was cool against his face as he looked around wildly.
"No huni, its me Piper."
He blinked as his eyes focused, they were burning green, glossy with unshed tears that he saw reflected in the woman's own brown ones. He shifted uncomfortably away from her, his mind still too foggy to be able to be near this woman with his mother's voice and smile.
"Oh" he supplied and tensed, looking away. Piper drew back at his hard expression, sighing so quiet he barely heard it, it made his heart hurt.
"Bad dream?" she asked as her sisters moved back to the book, snapping good-naturedly at each other in the background.
"Yeah." he whispered, he looked up at her shyly, swallowing. His need for comfort overruling his need for isolation suddenly, he wanted someone to tell him everything was going to be ok, that he wasn't alone. He avoided her eyes as he spoke next, his voice cracking in emotion "I dreamt about my brother."
Piper turned back to him, waiting patiently for him to continue.
"He took care of me when our mom died, it changed him." he wished she would hug him and tell him everything was ok like she used to, but he was a stranger to her. A dead stranger, a neurotic whitelighter who interfered and was annoying.
"Grief does horrible things to people" she answered smoothly, smiling down at him shinning with goodness, "But the best cure is support. From our families. We can help them, even if we don't think we can."
Chris tried not to grimace at her words. We can help them. He hadn't helped Wyatt, in fact no had helped Wyatt. But he would now, he thought as he slid past Piper agitated. So what if he came here for himself? He wanted to be happy, he wanted Wyatt to be happy, he really did. He would make sure everything worked out ok. For both their sakes.
"Yeah. I'm trying" he told her finally, staring out side.
The rain crackled against the cracked window slowly, and he watched emotionlessly as blue tainted water appeared inside the attic. It was defiantly better.
He would try till he got it right and maybe someday Wyatt and himself would be able to watch this blue rain together
Then End.
So this isjust me trying to get into Chris's subconscious and having a play around... but tell me what you think.