Disclaimer: See First Chapter.
Author's Note: Hi everyone! I'm sorry this has taken so long, but I've been bombarded with schoolwork recently--its really annoying, lol.
I hope you enjoy.
"So how is he?" Wyatt asked gruffly, his voice laced with impatience.
"He's healing, Wy," Lucy told him.
"Doesn't look like it." The man muttered almost poutingly.
Lucy rolled her eyes, "Well, he is." She muttered back, looking away from Wyatt to Chris; her gaze becoming thoughtful, "I just..."
"You just, what?" he asked, when she trailed off.
"I don't understand why he keeps getting fevers." She murmured still studying the sleeping patient, "I've checked and checked, and tested and tested... there's nothing in his bloodstream causing it; none of his wounds are infected... I'm beginning to think..."
"Beginning to think, what?" Wyatt prodded when she once again trailed off.
"That they're emotional."
"That's ridiculous." He scoffed.
She shot him a sharp look, "It isn't, actually. It happens all the time-- due to a little something called stress."
Wyatt was silent, considering this.
"So fix it." He commanded.
Lucy rolled her eyes, "I can't. You can't fix something like that. I can give him some mild sedatives, but I hate to until he's completely over the concussion--which he isn't... and anyway, it's not like I can keep him permanently sedated."
"Now there's a thought." Wyatt murmured.
She scowled, "Not funny."
He shrugged, then frowned a little, "He still has a concussion? You said..."
"-that he was healing and he is." Lucy interrupted, "But it's not magic, Wy."
"What the hell's taking so long? Today's his fourth day here! He slept ALL of yesterday. He's STILL sleeping."
"He did not sleep all of yesterday; I woke him up at five hour intervals, he just went right back to sleep each time. His body needs it. And if you think it's taking too a long, then heal him," she drawled.
He glared at her and she sighed after a moment, "But still," she continued, "Even if you did heal him, I don't think that would stop the fevers. Unless you can heal stress...?" she finished.
"I can't," Wyatt stated, grimly, "... can't heal exhaustion either. Or self-inflicted wounds." He finished, then his gaze sharpened, "You keep saying fevers, plural. Why?"
"Because they come and go. Right now he's fine. Around four this morning his temperature was 101.6- not a good thing."
"I just need him well enough for questioning."
Her eyes widened, "You're not serious?" she asked incredulously, "Your making me go through all the trouble of nursing him so you can torture him?"
"I said question not torture," Wyatt hissed.
"There's not a whole lot of difference with you."
His eyes flashed, "Watch yourself Lucy!" He roared at her, and she flinched. She hated when he did that; retreated behind the mask of Emperor. No one would follow him behind that mask-- not even her.
"Yes, Sir." She muttered, and made a show of lowering her gaze and sliding into a submissive stance.
He growled, "Goddammit, don't do that!" he hissed, "I didn't mean it like that!"
Her gaze shot up to his, "Make up your mind Wy; am I your prisoner or your friend?" she hissed.
He stared hard at her for several heartbeats; abruptly though, his gaze softened and he said almost gently, "You've never been my prisoner, Luce, and you never will be."
They stared at each other for a long moment, before she nodded and turned away.
"He should be strong enough for a few questions later today or tomorrow. I'll let you know when he wakes up."
Wyatt nodded and without another word, left the room.
She looked up after he'd gone; her gaze remained fixed on the door he'd closed behind him. He was such a contradiction, so completely unreadable; a monster, a murderer... and yet... he could be something else too... he could be something intense and real and... sometimes, he could be… almost warm.
"You've got to be kidding me?"
The question, whispered in a horrified and incredulous tone, caught her off guard. She swung around and found Chris staring at her with a mix of disgust and awe on his face.
"You love him." He accused.
Lucy started, then a moment later scowled, "Leave it alone," she hissed.
But Chris hardly heard her, "My god..." he continued, still horrified, "I feel like I've stepped into an alternate reality. My father claims to adore me, but somehow thinks it's a good idea to let Wyatt torture me and my nurse is in love with him. What is wrong you people?" He asked her indignantly, "He's a murderer!"
Lucy stared at him, "There's nothing wrong with us. We just choose to see the man underneath all that."
Chris stared at her in astonishment, "The man is the one doing the ordering, Lucy." He stated as though she were the most simple-minded creature in existence.
"No, Chris, that would be the Emperor. Surely you've seen it… the mask. The way he uses it-"
"Yes, I've seen it." Chris interrupted, "And I can assure you, the mask is nothing without the man who wears it."
She shook her head stubbornly, "He uses to it to hide the man; I've never been able to figure out why, but I know it. I know-"
"You know nothing." Chris cut her off harshly, finding the strength to sit up and glare at her, "You're a fool if you think that Wyatt has any loyalty to you. Defy him, if you want to see the truth. The only thing that matter is power... if you test that, he'll treat you like all the others... he doesn't care."
Her eyes flashed, "That's not true… you don't know him nearly as well as you think you do!"
Chris stared at her, her pale green eyes were bright with anger, her jaw clenched, her fists balled-she believed what she was saying... and she loved his brother.
This really was an alternate universe.
He drew in a deep breath. She'd been kind to him, he shouldn't yell at her; shouldn't shove the truth in her face.
But... she'd been kind to him - he shouldn't hide it from her, shouldn't lie.
"Maybe he does care for you," he whispered, "... but never as much as he cares for his regime... never as much as he cares about power. Remember that Lucy, he may care, he may even love you... but if you challenge his power-he'll destroy you."
"Shall I get you a mirror so you can repeat those words?" she hissed.
His gaze narrowed, "I know what I'm doing." He told her, "I've always known."
"He's your brother." She accused.
"Not for much longer." Chris responded, the pain of those words visible in his eyes.
"It doesn't have to be that way." she whispered.
"Yes it does." He whispered back and the vehemence of those words made her shudder; she remained silent, though.
Several seconds ticked by before he spoke again, his voice quiet, "Dad… he said you were friends with Wyatt in high school…?" He asked as he settled himself against the headboard of the bed, his aqua-green eyes watching her closely.
She nodded.
"We never met." He stated, "How come?"
Lucy smiled at him a little, nearing the bed, assuming that the dire topic had been shifted to something more lighthearted-she should've known better.
She shrugged, pulling a chair closer and sitting, "Did Wyatt meet all your friends?" she asked kindly and he was struck again, by how kind she seemed; how odd that someone like that would love his brother…
Chris studied her a moment, then tilted his head to one side, "No, I guess he didn't." He answered softly, refraining from adding that thanks to that some of them were still alive.
"Did you ever... did you ever meet our Mom?" he asked after moment. A deceptively calm gaze trained on her face.
She shook her head, "No, I never got that honor." She stated, "I would have liked to, though... of course in High School, most of High School anyway, I didn't know Wyatt had powers. I only found out around the end of our senior year."
Chris nodded.
"Our Mom," he began, "… was a very good woman. Some might even say great."
"She was a Charmed One, Chris," Lucy interrupted a smirk lighting her face, "She was exceptional."
He smiled a little, "Yeah, she was. But not for the reason you're thinking… not because she had powers or because she was a Charmed One; but because she was good." He said emphatically.
"She was nice. She was the type of person who didn't mind adding an extra plate at the dinner table when you unexpectedly brought home a friend-hell, she relished it. She loved having the house full of people; full of laughter and noise. She was the kind of person who held the door open for someone and gave up her seat on the bus." His words were soft, but the intensity in his gaze was making Lucy squirm.
"Why are you telling me this?" she asked softly, beginning to understand that Chris hadn't changed topics at all... only the angle with which they were discussing it.
"She wanted a normal life, Lucy." He stated, ignoring her question, "For a very long time she struggled with that issue. She wanted a vacation that didn't get ruined by a demon, she wanted to be able to let us have sleepovers, she wanted to live her life without worrying about an attack… but you know what?"
The silence stretched until finally she swallowed hard and whispered, "What?"
"She neverturned her back on an innocent. Not ever. She had the chance to, more than once she could've given it all up and just had that normal life… but she could never do it. If she'd just let go, she could've had a much easier life-she might…" his voice caught, "... she might even be alive," he added hoarsely, but quickly continued, "But she never could, she couldn't let it go, she couldn't give up-because she could never live her life knowing what was out there and not helping, not saving innocents."
Her breathing hitched suddenly as the awareness of where he was going with this hit her.
"You wanted to know why I'm telling you this." He prodded, "I want you to understand why it has to be this way." He said firmly, "It has to be this way because I'm my mother's son and I cannot turn my back on an innocent. Not ever."
She shook her head, breaking eye contact him.
"My life would be easier, but I... I can't… just ignore the things Wyatt is doing, the lives he's destroying. I can't turn away from it, he's destroying the world we grew up in, he's killing the people I love, he's destroying my family's legacy. I can't just... I can't ignore the things I learned from her." He finished softly, fervently; wanting her to get it.
And by the tinge of despair in her eyes, he could tell that she was. He sighed a little, shrugging as he added, "... I guess I've always been a mama's boy."
Lucy's expression didn't change at the comment; instead she stood and walked to the other side of the room. He said nothing, just watched her.
He was feeling much better. The pounding in his head had lessened to a manageable thud and the wounds and cuts along his back and shoulder were healing. He was still feeling tired and weak, but that was beside the point. He knew it was time to put a plan into action; but first he had to get Lucy out of the room. He knew that. She would report to Wyatt. Worse... she was loyal to Wyatt.
"What was it? The stupid thing you did?" she asked suddenly, startling him.
He frowned.
Had she heard nothing he'd just said?
He gaped at her, "Stupid thing?" he echoed after a few silent moments.
She nodded, turning to face him, "Wyatt was ranting before... not since you've been here... a few months ago; about how his little brother had done such a stupid thing... what was?"
Chris glared at her, "It wasn't stupid." He growled, "I'm trying to save him, it's what everybody always seems to overlook. I'm not trying to destroy his ridiculous regime- well, okay maybe I am, but that's not the only thing I'm trying to do, that's not my goal and I'm definitely not betraying my blood or setting out to kill my brother in a time when he can't defend himself-which is total bullshit anyway, because the kid had powers from the womb so he was NEVER defenseless! But the point is that I'm not trying to do anything like that. I'm trying to find a way to fix all this." He finished angrily, sick and tired of having to justify his actions over and over again. "I'm trying save him."
"How?" She asked a bit sharply ignoring his rant, "How were you trying to save him?"
Chris jumped a little, her sharp tone jarring him into the present; and making him suddenly aware of the present possibility. Maybe he didn't have to get her out of the room... maybe, just maybe... he could get her to... to help him.
The idea blossomed instantly. It would work. If he could convince her... it would work!
"In the past," he said almost eagerly, pushing off the headboard and inching forward on the bed, "I went to the past, the time before I was born. If I can stop the thing that turned him, before it gets to him, I can save him."
"How do you know?" she asked in barely a whisper, "... that something got to him."
His eagerness faded; her question flooding his mind with memories, with things he should have seen and didn't, "Hindsight is 20/20, you know…?" he said softly, a sad, melancholy look covering his face as his gaze dropped from her face.
A moment later he looked up, "I can remember... moments when... when something just seemed off about his reactions, his ideas. But it... it never really revealed itself until after-after our mom and aunts died."
He shrugged a little looking down again, his words contemplative, "He loved them. Loved them enough so that he would submit to them, to their rules-he hasn't submitted to anyone since they died… its how... how I know that he can be saved... because whatever it was that... that turned him- it didn't extinguish everything... he can still love." He paused, "Or he could." He added after a moment.
The room was silent; both occupants lost in their own thoughts.
"Will you help me?" Chris asked into the thick silence.
Lucy started a little, as if remembering he was there, but instead of answering she turned away from him abruptly.
He stared at her back.
"It's the only way." He began, trying to not sound weary as he prepared to sell his mission yet again. "No one sees that, no one wants to accept it. But the only way to change all this is to go back. We have no future from here, you have to see that... see that the world he's creating is no place to raise kids; no place live. If I'm in the past I can protect him- already I've intercepted several plots for his kidnapping. I'm not betraying him, I'm just trying to save him." His words trailed off, they didn't seem to be having any affect on her.
His fists clenched and struggled to control the rising wave of anger that was suddenly threatening to overwhelm him. What was so difficult to understand about that?
"You're not stupid!" He growled at her, "And you're not blind! You have to see what's going on here... whether it's the man or the mask... it's still a monster!"
She turned slowly to face him and he was surprised by the tears stains on her cheeks. She was crying.
"I believe, the saying states that love isn't blind," she whispered, acknowledging his accusation, "It just refuses to see."
Chris processed those words and what they meant as he watched her draw in a shaky breath and wipe away at her tears.
"I'm sorry..." she began.
He shook his head-- she could help him, she had to help him, "Please-"
"-I can't…" she interrupted, "I can't betray him. I can't."
"You won't be-"
"But he'll think I have... he thinks you have."
Chris winced at that, it was true. "Lucy I just... I have to stop him… one way or another."
Now it was her turn to wince. The tears pooled again, "He trusts so few, Chris…" she whispered.
He glanced away; he didn't like thinking of his brother's feelings in this whole mess. It made the mess even more complicated and that was something he just didn't need.
The silence stretched again, slowly he turned to meet her gaze, "I will stop him one way or another," he repeated; then added, "Or I will die trying. That's all there is to it."
The tears seemed to spill faster and she suddenly turned away, clamping her hand over her mouth, suppressing the urge to sob.
"Oh god," she whispered, "No matter what... he'll be heartbroken."
Chris swallowed hard; there it was again, that reference to his brother's feeling.
He shoved it away; he couldn't think about that.
Lucy turned back to him, "I don't want you to kill him." She stated as matter-a-factly as she could considering there were still tears trailing down her face, "But if he has to kill you... it'll-"
"He doesn't care." Chris interrupted, "He doesn't need me; he's told me so- more than once."
She sent him that patented pointed look of hers that still managed to be effective even though tears glistened in her eyes, "Then it's a case of protesting too much… he does need you. If he didn't he'd've killed you a long time ago; you're his little brother."
Chris frowned, not commenting... not letting himself wonder if it was true.
"If you go back... if you escape..." Lucy continued, "He'll be furious... if I help you... he'll... he'll be hurt... oh Chris, I'm sorry, but I just... I can't; I wish I could, but I can't... I can't betray him."
"But your not!" he yelled, feeling this chance slipping away, "Goddammit Lucy! This is the only chance! Help me see it through! Stop thinking about yourself and him and me... think about the world outside these windows... they deserve this chance...!"
Her gaze faltered.
"This is bigger then Wyatt... this about the world he rules." Chris stated ardently. The pounding in his head was getting more intense, but he had to get her to understand, "Please Lucy... this is... it's the only chance we have to... to end this... without... tragedy..." Tears stung the back of his eyes, but he blinked them back. He'd be dammed if he burst into tears because she wouldn't help him. He'd done things on his own before, if she refused he could do it again… he didn't know how he'd do it, but he'd do it. He had to.
Her silence told him she was wavering and he drew a deep breath, racking his brain for anything that would pull her over that line and into his camp.
"You love him. Prove it." He stated, allowing a bit of the desperation he was feeling to taint his voice. Anything to get her on his side, "Help me save him. I have to get out of here. I have find out where my uncle is, where the kids are; I have... I have to get back. I promised them I would go back... please..."
She drew a shuddering breath and slowly turned away from him again.
His eyes slid shut in defeat.
She wasn't going to help him.
The urge to bury his face in his hands and cry was strong... but he wouldn't give in. He couldn't.
He didn't have the time. If this possibility wasn't going to pan out then he needed a new one. That was all. A new option.
Consider and discard--he didn't have time for despair.
"He escaped from the holding sector."
The soft voice made him jump a little and he realized that although he hadn't actually cried he had lowered his head into his hands... of course that had a lot to do with the return of the pounding in his head.
He lifted his head slowly, "What?"
"Your Uncle Cole-- he escaped from the holding sector. Three days ago. Wyatt only held him for a day; something happened, a commotion, and he got away."
Chris stared at her in surprise.
She walked to him slowly, "You're right, I do love him. And I believe that you... you love him too; probably as much as he loves you... that's what makes this all so heart-wrenching." She finished, her voice breaking a little, "I want to end this, too." She whispered.
He blinked a little, her words spinning in his head-the relief so intense that for a moment he was numb to it.
He watched as she seemed to pull herself together; when she spoke her voice was no longer shaky, but steady.
"Tell me what you need me to do."
Those simple words stirred the embers of hope inside him once again-she would help him.
"You're serious?" He asked his tone at once, incredulous, hopeful, and fearful.
She nodded slowly, "Yeah, I am... if you tell me. I'll help... in what I can..."
He stared at her. The realization of what her help would mean washing over him. To have ally Wyatt trusted…
… he could be back in 2004 tomorrow.
"By the silence, I'm going to assume I've surprised you..." she drawled softly, the slightly amused expression on her face doing nothing to detract from the anxiety there.
He had to get her help soon, before she changed her mind. He opened his mouth to respond then closed it and shook his head; a motion that caused him to wince.
Lucy frowned, "Are you in pain?" she asked, concerned.
He wanted to deny it, but the throbbing that had increased into pounding had now turned into sharp needles and those pesky black spots had started hounding his vision again.
His silence was answer enough.
"Since when?" she asked, "Where? Why didn't you tell me?"
She didn't sound happy, he thought, as she leaned him back onto the pillow.
"Chris!" she exclaimed, "Answer me!" Alarm tinged her voice.
He swallowed hard, pushing against her hands in an attempt sit up. Her hands were firm and her gaze sharpened.
"My head," he told her, "But... it's just a headache..."
"Headaches aren't just headaches when you have a concussion..." she stated, sighing as though he were the most ignorant person in the world. "Now be good and lie back."
"You'll really help me...?"
"I said I would. I want to end this too Chris... and if there's a way to avoid... the obvious tragedy that's looming over us all, then... I'm all for it."
"I need to get a message to my uncle." Chris stated, "Just so that he knows I'm okay. Then I'll need to get to the Manor-undetected, of course."
"Hold up there speedy; you have a concussion, remember. You're in no condition to go anywhere."
"Exactly Wyatt won't expect it."
She paled a little, "He won't expect me to be helping you either." She said very softly.
Chris drew in a slow breath, pushing away the pain in his head to comfort this young woman, this new ally. "But you are," he told her just as softly, "You are helping him, by helping me."
She gave a sad smirk and shrugged, "Anyway, the added bonus of… surprise," her voice shook a little on the word, but she rushed on, "… gives you time to heal completely."
He nodded, "I know, but still… the sooner I can do this the better."
She tilted her head to one side, "I have to tell him… that you're awake, and strong enough for… questioning."
"Questioning?" Chris yelped alarmed, "I can't go through questioning! I'll never get out of here!"
"He said he wasn't going to hurt-"
"But he will!" Chris interrupted, "You know he will-- as soon as I refuse to answe-"
"So don't refuse to." She interrupted right back.
He gaped at her.
"Don't refuse to? I have to refuse to. People's lives depend on me refusing to!"
"Wow, can you do melodrama..." She mused, looking a little more amused then he'd want her to.
She had just told him that she was turning him over to Wyatt for questioning! The last time Wyatt had questioned him, Excalibur and large amounts of blood loss had been involved!
"I'm not being melodramatic," he hissed, "I'm speaking from experience."
"He's not going to torture you."
"He will-"
"Not this time." She affirmed, "I don't think he'll be able to manage it. You should have seen his face, Chris... the other night; when you were feverish and having a nightmare... it was just…" she trailed off slowly.
Chris looked away, wishing he could as easily shove her words away. He couldn't think of Wyatt's feelings—things would get messier… he wouldn't think of Wyatt's feelings... it would slow him down; make things harder...
"Just what?"
The question was barely a whisper and out before he could stop it; he prayed simultaneously that she would and that she wouldn't hear it.
She did.
"Just so… loving." She finished. "He healed you, ya know?"
He swung his head back to her; not a good idea. He winced, gasping as a bolt of pain slashed through his head and nausea washed over him.
"Don't make sudden movements." Lucy ordered.
He ignored her command, "Healed me when? How? I'm not healed."
"He didn't mean to. Didn't want to… it just happened," she told him, "I left the room for a min-"
"You left me alone with him! What kind of nurse are you!"
She paused, stared at him, rolled her eyes, then continued, "… for a minute and when I came back he was sitting on the side of the bed. His hand on your arm... and it was glowing. The funny thing was when I pointed it out to him, he jumped back like he'd been burned—he didn't mean to." She smirked a little, "… in fact he denied it... like I hadn't just seen him doing it..."
His gaze had wandered away from her as she spoke and was now focused on the other side of the room; his thoughts busy, but somehow blank, "But why… why would he do that?" he asked dully, suddenly unable to break out of the mood.
Lucy shrugged, "He loves you."
That assertion, so bold, so sure, shook him out of it. "He doesn-"
"Of course he does." She snapped at him. "Why wouldn't he? You love him."
"Yeah, but-"
"You love him because he's your brother-"
"Yes, but-"
"Well, news flash: you're his brother."
"I know, but-"
"You love him for the memories you have of him."
"Okay, but-"
"He has memories of you too."
"I know that, but-"
"You love him because you grew up together."
The room was silent.
"What?" she asked archly, "No comeback for that one?"
Chris's gaze dropped, "I don't like to do that." He muttered after a long moment.
She sighed, her attitude softening; he could really do marvelous things with that little boy look of his, "Do what?" she asked.
"Think of… him as... as the person I grew up with."
She studied him for a long moment, then, "Why not?"
"Because…" Chris looked up, "It makes me realize that… we were united for much longer then we've been apart. It makes me realize that you can't erase an entire lifetime so there has to be something of that boy in him. But mostly it terrifies me, because if I start thinking of him like that… like Wy… it puts me in danger of losing focus."
"Focus?"
"To stop him—no matter what."
She frowned, "Stop saying that." She hissed.
He met her gaze, remaining silent; his eyes telling her that whether he said it out loud or not—it was still true.
After a long tense moment he spoke, "We've talked long enough." He told her, his tone suddenly aloof and she had the surreal feeling of watching yet another Halliwell put on yet another mask.
He was suddenly cold and calculated and in control.
The realization that these brothers were evenly matched hit her again—and this time not because they knew each other better then anyone else in the world as it had last time—but because they were both efficient and deadly when they wanted to be; because they were both capable and willing to reach extremes to accomplish their goal; because they'd both been trained by the same force.
"Go tell him that I'm strong enough to be questioned; while he and I are doing that send a message to my uncle that I'm alright; if you send it to the apartment Wyatt has registered as our cousin's home he'll get it. Do you understand?" he checked.
She blinked; still reeling from the change in him—he was giving her orders. Somehow she'd slipped into his ranks.
"Lucy?" his voice cut into her thoughts.
"What? I'm sorry?" she muttered.
"Did you understand…?" he asked again.
She nodded slowly, "But they're not there anymore…" she told him.
His eyes widened, "They're not? Since when? How do you know?"
She shrugged, "Wyatt wanted them picked up the day you and your Uncle were brought in, but he couldn't find them. He has guards looking for them. I know, because I was in the room when he gave the order that they were to be brought to him, unharmed of course."
Chris released a mental sigh; it meant the twins had taken the kids to Headquarters when their Dad hadn't returned—thank god. They'd be safe there.
He looked back up to Lucy, "It doesn't matter." He told her seriously, "Just send the message to that address. He'll get it. Do you have access to the Book of Shadows?"
She swallowed hard, "I have access to everything." She whispered.
"I need you to retrieve a spell for me. The spell, To Bind a Witch's Powers."
"Why?"
"Because that's my mission here and I hate to leave a mission unfinished. Get the spell before you send the message to my uncle; let him know your giving it to me. I'd like to see you here again tonight or after Wyatt has finished tortu-questioning me, which ever comes first."
She stared at him a moment. She was really going to do this…? She was really going to betray Wy's trust in her...? That utter faith he had in her…?
Chris saw her wavering, but remained silent. He'd pressed enough, cajoled and sold and bargained enough. In the end it was really up to her.
He couldn't force her to. She either did or she didn't.
Just like he had.
The Resistance founders hadn't forced him to join them, to lead them. They'd asked and sold and cajoled and bargained—but in the end, it had been his choice.
And it was a choice that was made alone.
She nodded slowly, but he knew that it wasn't definite until she'd actually done as he asked. It wasn't definite until she'd taken that step, that step she couldn't take back.
"You'll rest while I go talk to him?" she asked, "I can give you a mild pain rel-"
"No, I have to be completely lucid if I'm going up against Wyatt." He interrupted.
She frowned, obviously not liking the way he'd worded that, but didn't comment on it. "Fine, but try to get some rest, okay."
He nodded and watched her leave. As soon as the door closed he sat up in bed. He could rest in 2004; right now he needed a plan B and C, he threw the light covers aside and frowned down at his boxer shorts.
Hmmmm, he need a plan B and C and… pants.
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