Of All the People

Chapter 10

By teal-lover

Summary: Wyatt reflects on the events after Chris Crossed and decides to do something about it.

Rating: PG13, T

Disclaimer: I don't own Charmed, just borrowing, promise to give them back when done, don't get any money for this.

AN: Look, I'm updating—twice in two days…a new record for me. So what do you think?

This chapter is almost entirely a flashback from both Chris and Wyatt. I used to work in a family court in the east, but I have no idea if my representations are accurate in San Fran—so keep in mind that this is a product of my own imagination as background and is purely fictional. No animals or demons were harmed in the making of this chapter :)

€-€-€-€-€-€-€-€-€-€-€-€-€-€-€

2018…San Francisco Family Court House

The judge turned to his court assistant, "In the absence of a living-legal guardian appointed to the two minor children, Wyatt Matthew Halliwell, and Christopher Perry Halliwell, let the record show that the minor Wyatt Matthew Halliwell will be remanded to the Bryson Home for boys until such time as he becomes of legal age. Let the record also show that the minor Christopher Perry Halliwell will be remanded to the temporary care of Julia and Thomas Tate, until such time as a permanent foster placement can be found."

The echo of the gavel banging on the table was all that could be heard before the officers moved in to separate the two boys.

Wyatt was stunned out of his silence when the guard grabbed for his arm. "NO! You can't do this! I won't let you."

The judge fired back a response, irritated that the boy would dare speak to him like that. "You seem to be under the impression that you have a choice, young man." He tried to soften his tone to make him understand, "I'm sorry, Wyatt. But that is my final ruling. You can't care for a teenaged boy—you're just a child yourself. I'm truly sorry for your loss, but no..."

Wyatt struggled out of the guards grasp and neared the bench. "NO! I've already been taking care of him for over a year."

He stared back at the blue-eyed teen crossly. The way his eyes hovered over the rims of his glasses almost made the matter seem trivial. "You were both under your grandfather's care."

"A grandfather who was an invalid and couldn't get out of bed. How could he possibly have cared for us? I've done it before, I can keep doing it. And now I'm almost 18! I can take care of him. My mom left me her club—and she taught me how to run it. I can do it, I know I can. And she left the house to us, and we have plenty of savings to live off of for years from my Aunt Phoebe and Grandpa. Check the bank accounts, you'll see! You can't do this!"

"Wyatt, you are not even old enough to be IN a night club, let alone run one. And I'm aware of all of the money and property that you will inherit. But all of that requires that you be of legal age, which you are not."

"Only for another month," he pleaded desperately.

"And I am not willing to take the responsibility of whatever harm could befall two teenaged boys alone in the interim. Besides, you have your own life to live—you're too young to be burdened by the responsibilities of fatherhood. I'm sorry, but I am doing what is in the best interest of both you and your brother. Please son, don't make this any harder on him than it has to be…" The judge gathered up his papers and turned to head toward the stairs.

"You think you can do whatever you want, tearing families apart, just because you have a little bit of power? Well you're wrong! You know NOTHING about power." Wyatt felt himself loosing control as they tried to pull him away. He raised his hands to strike down the judge with every ounce of power that was contained in his body. He only vaguely heard his brother shouting behind him.

"LET GO OF ME!"

He sensed his brother's presence suddenly next to him before he felt the calming hand on his arm, lowering it slowly. The younger boy must have broken free of his 'jailors' too. "Don't do this. It's only for a month, Wy." He whispered to him. "They're not keeping us longer than that."

Outside of the courthouse, two sets of glassy eyes stared back at one another as they were shuffled into the back seats.

The two cars, each holding a Charmed Son, pulled out of the parking lot heading in different directions. It seemed to be the beginning of where their paths would lead them years down the line…

€-€-€-€-€-€-€-€-€-€-€-€-€-€-€

Three weeks later…

Chris was in the living room playing a holo-game with several of the other foster boys, each taking a turn at competing against the program. Their boisterous laughter had apparently been too loud, because Thomas Tate, stomped into the den and yanked the controls out of the two player's hands.

Most of the youngsters in the room scrambled backwards in fright, having been used to the often sudden and unprovoked, violent temper of their foster father.

Chris kept his head down low, having quickly learned from the others that going unnoticed by the brawny man was always a good thing, and he had learned to keep his mouth shut. He wondered why the state had never noticed the sheer number of emergency room accidents that the foster children of this home had. Or the fact that they were all forced to play some kind of contact sport in order to cover up any errant marks and bruises. If the judge thought he was better off here, then he was dreaming. He thought wryly that he'd be safer with demons in the underworld.

He was too afraid that if the man singled him out for a beating like he did some of the others, he would be forced to expose magic, and that was something that his mother had always drilled into him—never risk exposure, or the cleaners will erase you. He had been lucky so far. So he decided to be as inconspicuous as possible and bide his time until his brother came for him.

Unfortunately, Chris was a Halliwell. His luck was bound to run out. And on this day, it finally had.

'Tate' as the kids called him, looked around and enjoyed the rush he got from intimidating them. They all cowered under his stony glare, most flinching in anticipation of being struck as he neared. Except for one, he noted. The newest one. That Holloway kid, or something like that. He was kind of mousy, he observed quietly. Probably not even at full height yet; lean—not an ounce of muscle on him. And features too delicate to be anything other than a momma's boy. Too bad his momma ain't here, he thought with a smirk.

He hadn't learned to fear him properly yet, but he was determined to change that. Tate almost grinned. "Did you hear me, boy? What's your name—Chrissy? Look at me when I'm talking to you."

Chris had been so focused on staying low and hoping that Tate bypassed him, that he missed the fact that he was now focusing on him. He was drawn back in by the stinging pain on his cheek where the man had just slapped him. If he were to look in a mirror right now, he was certain that the entire side of his face would be burning red from the man's large hand. His heart started pounding as he responded to the demand, but he was met with hardened brown eyes and knew he was in trouble.

He took a step back, but Tate reached out and grabbed his arm to pull him in closer, digging his fingers into the flesh hard enough to leave bruises. Having been there for only three weeks, Chris had seen enough to know what was going to come next as a result of his simple act of defiance. Tate would pummel him into the ground until Mrs. Tate finally dragged him off.

Chris hoped that if his mother was watching him, that she would understand, because he refused to be the next one to land in the hospital with some broken bone or other. He yanked his arm back, at the same time, flicking his wrist almost unnoticeably to throw the man back telekinetically.

The other kids gasped as Tate fell backwards, landing hard on the floor and disoriented for a moment. When he shook himself off, his eyes blazed with fury and he scavenged around like a mad dog. "Where's my belt?" he demanded of the others. No one answered, but he shoved them aside and spotted it in its usual place on the hook, the strap of black leather clearly worn out from overuse. Snatching it down, he spun around menacingly.

"Run Chris!" one of the older ones prodded him.

And he did.

€-€-€-€-€-€-€-€-€-€-€-€-€-€-€

"So I ran until I was out of his sight. Then I orbed back to the manor. I didn't stay long because I knew they'd be looking for me. It's not like they were going to believe me any way—not at first." He added with a disgusted look, "Thomas Tate was a perfect saint for taking in all of us poor little orphans. At least, whenever he wasn't beating the crap out of one of them. Oh but no matter, they were all sports injuries."

Wyatt stared at him in disbelief before his eyes darkened in anger. "You never told me he hit you."

Chris laughed at his brother's overprotective reaction, "Oh that's right, you're the only one allowed to kick my—" his laughter trailed into a cough at the glare he received. "Anyway, why would I do that? So that you could go back and fry him with an energy ball? You'd end up in jail and I'd end up in some other foster home—permanently. Besides, how do you think it was so easy to convince the judge to let me stay with you after you turned 18? The others got the same idea to run after I did. With all of them coming forward, the judge didn't want to ruin his career by letting anyone know he put most of us there. He was ready to give us just about anything we wanted by that point."

"So when you suddenly showed up practically in tears at the group home? That was the same day?"

"Yeah, I guess it was."

€-€-€-€-€-€-€-€-€-€-€-€-€-€-€

Wyatt sat alone leaning up against a tree on the edges of the courtyard, ignoring the other teens as they played basketball a few feet away from him. He turned down their offer to join them every day for two weeks until they had finally stopped asking. He preferred to be alone with his thoughts, hoping that they would pass the time quickly until he would be of age.

He hated himself for backing down at his brother's request. He shouldn't have let them take either of them. Now he couldn't help thinking that if they knew who he was—the Twice Blessed Witch, Son of a Charmed One and a Whitelighter, the heir to the throne of Excalibur, they wouldn't have even thought of doing something like this to him. But they thought he was just some powerless kid who lost his family and now had to rely on others to care for him. If they only knew what he could do. What he was capable of. They wouldn't try to dictate to him where he should go, who he should live with, or who he in turn could care for.

He flexed his hands as the anger built inside of him. If they thought they were going to—" his head suddenly shot up, sensing a familiar presence that had been lacking for nearly a month. He looked around for the boy, not seeing him anywhere, but knowing that he was near by.

Wyatt heard a rustling in the bushes and turned in that direction. He saw the piercing sage-green eyes hiding behind the leaves in an attempt to blend in.

Cautious of any other watchful eyes, he crept over to the bush and ducked behind it quickly. "Chris, what's wrong?" he asked worriedly.

"I want to go home, Wyatt," the teenager said as he paced and fidgeted anxiously.

"Just one more week, Chris. I promise. My birthday is next week. I'll be 18 and they can't stop me from coming to get you."

He shook his head wildly, "I'm not going back. Please, I don't want to go back."

"It's ok. I'll hide you out here or something. I'll never make you do anything you don't want to do."

€-€-€-€-€-€-€-€-€-€-€-€-€-€-€

"Do you remember when you said that?" Chris asked, hoping to have found a loophole in one of their many verbal contracts.

Wyatt grinned slightly, knowing where his brother was headed with his questioning. But he hadn't found a way out of it yet. "Yes. But that's why we're here now. I've always given you a choice. You see, I'm a man of my word, Chris. At least with you. Since you did so well at quoting me earlier, I'll return the favor with one of yours—the ball is in your court."

TBC…

Thank you all so much for the reviews. They really keep me going—and ignoring my homework:)

AN: In case you were wondering, this chapter was one of the pivotal moments that influenced Wyatt's power trip.