Leigh1986: Thanks, I'm glad you think that! But that's probably only because there are so few Chris/Bianca stories out there . . . (sigh) it's very sad. I've actually created a C2 community for Chris/Bianca fics called Star Crossed . . . if you find other good ones, please let me know. Enjoy the chapter!
Thanks to DrewFullerFanLife for the review!
Aww . . . I'm a bit disappointed. There are less and less reviews as the story progresses, which in my opinion, gets better and better with each chapter. This makes me sad. Why don't you leave a review and cheer me up? (wink) Enjoy!
Chris couldn't have been happier.
The rate of successful mission has skyrocketed, and the Resistance has become more than just a mere thorn in Wyatt's side. Chris really believed that they were really starting to make a lasting impact. Word of the work they do have been spreading despite Wyatt's avid attempts to squash the rumors. The result of this has been more recruits into their Resistance, some relocating to San Francisco to join them in the main fight, and others forming their own Resistance in their own respective areas.
After all, slow and steady always wins the race.
More importantly, hope, even a fraction of it, has been restored. Hope would be their main weapon, their strength.
Though Chris hated to admit it, their success is owed deeply to Bianca, who's accurate and important Intel allowed them to stop many of Wyatt's plans, further slowing his takeover and beginning to set him back a little.
He still doubted Bianca's motives, but he had to admit that she has been nothing but a great help ever since becoming a mole. Still, Chris never allowed her inside the Resistance itself, and probably never will, unless the fight ends in their lifetime.
"Chris!"
He jumped up suddenly, flinching at the loud disoriented voice. He rubbed his ear with his finger, whining, "Why'd you yell for?"
Penelope, as her shape materialized and the orbs disappeared, looked irritated. "I've been calling for you for five minutes. That athame of yours just turned coal black."
"Damn, she works fast. Or should I say, Wyatt works fast?" Chris mumbled, hastily coveringhis boxerswith his blanket in embarrassment. He had been in the process of waking up when he'd been hit with a major self reflection whammy, still overjoyedabout their major breakthrough mission success the night before.
Pen merely nodded at his remark. "Wyatt's going to have to have to retaliate after yesterday, right?
"I guess."
The cousins were silent for a moment, Pen's foot tapped on the stone floor impatiently. "Well?" she scowled finally, "Are you going to meet her?"
"Not without pants, I'm not," Chris replied sarcastically, indicating to the blanket. "Do you mind?"
"Oh!" Pen's face flushed red, her freckles standing out even more, "Yes, I mean, no, I mean . . . gone."
Chris smirked. Even as she was orbing out, he could see that her face was still red from embarrassment.
His wrinkled his nose in distaste at the remaining clothes in his closet. Most of the pants were extremely ripped and dirty. Sighing sadly, Chris knew that if his mother were alive, she'd given him a major scolding about cleanliness. Sure, he could have sewn the ripped parts, but Chris had been so busy lately, he had no time. Right now, all he cared about was getting the job done.
So, after throwing on a pair of his least torn jeans, Chris telekinetically called his athame from its hiding spot under the bed to his hand before orbing out to meet Bianca.
Bianca was sitting patiently on the bench, managing not to instinctively flinch when she heard the chimes of a whitelighter's orbs. In fact, now that she thought about it, it was a rather nice sound, soothing in its own way. Personally, Bianca preferred shimmering. It was quicker, quieter, and sleeker, more fit for an assassin. The loud chimes of orbing would alert the prey to the hunter's presence. It could also get annoying, especially if it's been a bad day.
Today was not that day.
"Hello, Chris," she greeted the forming orbs curtly. They had both gone beyond their meetings being all about stiffness and suspicion, although Bianca knew the young leader was rightfully reluctant to give her any information about him and the Resistance.
Not that it mattered. He and his renegades were just a means to an end. What did Bianca care about the location of the Resistance? She needed their recourses and their uncanny ability to succeed on missions, and they needed Intel on Wyatt.
"Bianca," he inclined his head to her, polite but with a friendly air.
Once the youngest Halliwell boy was fully formed in front of her, Bianca opened her mouth to speak, only to be interrupted by having a body fall on her.
Chris was smashing her under his weight, catching Bianca so off guard that she fell backwards into the stone statue, bruising her shoulder.
"Chris? Chris!" Bianca shouted, shaking him, utterly confused and slightly panicked. "Get a hold of yourself!"
But it seems that he couldn't. Chris's entire body was shaking, twitching jerkily, his facial expression contorted.
Finally, when he stopped trembling, and his vision refocused itself, he stared at Bianca as if he had just finally truly seen her.
"What is it? Why are you looking at me like that?" Bianca demanded, uneasiness in her eyes betraying her cold demand.
Chris shook his head, clearing his head of what had just happened. His mind raced; this couldn't possibly be happening.
Premonition wasn't supposed to be his power.
Or was it a premonition? It seemed to be more of a flashback. But then, hadn't Aunt Phoebe been able to do that too as part of her premonition power?
He tried to block out the images skittering through his mind, but found that he could not.
"That's right, Bianca, steady your hand," A blonde haired woman encouraged her nine year old daughter with loving care in her tone.
"But Mommy," Bianca whined, her focus temporarily off her target, "Do I have to hit Teddy?"
Lynn stared at her daughter sternly. "Don't you think you're a little old for stuffed animals? Your grandmother was right; I should have started training you earlier. All the other kids in the Coven have already made their first kill. Remember what I said before?"
"Let go of all emotions, nothing matters but the kill," Bianca repeated from memory in a monotone, looking bored, "And, you always said I was a fast learner –I'll be the best Phoenix assassin of them all!"
Unable to resist her daughter's innocent enthusiasm, Lynn rumpled Bianca's hair lovingly. "I'm sure you will. Now concentrate."
Just as Bianca locked her eyes fiercely with the teddy bear's black ovals, prepared to throw the athame, she sensed another person entering their home, instead directing the athame in the direction of the intruder.
Bianca's grandmother, with her quick reflexes, caught the incoming athame between her fingers, startling Bianca, who turned to her mother. "Can you teach me that next?"
Lynn put a finger to her daughter's mouth to silence her, instead greeting the new guest.
"Hello Mother," Lynn greeted, a slight stiffness in her voice.
"Lynn," Her mother replied. Even as an old lady, she still retained a powerful, commanding and youthful aura. "And how's my granddaughter?" she smiled toothily at Bianca, the hard lines on her faceallowing little affection to shine through.
Bianca smiled back at her grandmother, having accepted long ago that her grandma would never be the kind little old ladies that sat their grandchildren on their laps and told comforting stories.
Although, her grandmother did tell her of their Coven's many major achievements and kills. She supposed that counted.
"What is your mother teaching you now, Bianca?"
Bianca beamed with pride. "I'm working on perfecting my accuracy, hitting a certain spot on the body."
"Oh?" Her grandmother didn't seem that interested in that response, but her eyebrows raised inquisitively during her next question, one that Bianca felt was the real reason she had come, "And how many jobs have your mother taken you on?"
"None so far," Bianca replied.
Her grandmother smiled, but it looked forced. Her eyes flickered for a moment to Lynn, who resisted the urge to flinch under the Matriarch of the Coven's scrutinizing gaze.
"Lynn," she said sternly, her eyes cold, "I thought you said you were taking Bianca on the last job."
Lynn raised her head defiantly, staring into her mother's eyes with equal vigor, "I was, but I felt that Bianca wasn't ready yet. She's too young,"
The Matriarch growled in frustration. "Lana took Claire on her first kill when she was seven! You cannot protect the girl just because she is half human! She is just as good a Phoenix as any, if not better! Her half blood should drive her to surpass her Coven sisters and brothers, not be below them!"
This hit Lynn hard, but as trained, she kept her emotions distant. "All right, mother."
Her mother smiled, satisfied to see that she had gotten through to Lynn. "Take her on the new job."
She shimmered out.
"I'm going on my first kill?" Bianca asked, a grin spreading across her face in excitement. She had heard stories from her cousins; saw their proud faces, wanting to be able to have stories to tell too.
Lynn nodded reluctantly. "But let's finish this exercise first. Now, concentrate."
But Bianca couldn't. A question she had always wanted to ask loomed over her until it finally burst out of her mouth.
"Mom? When you kill . . . what do you feel?"
Lynn stopped in her tracks. Pain washed over her face as she remembered the past, remembered the people she had killed because of her way of life, because of her destiny.
"Nothing," she lied, "You don't feel a thing."
"Okay, Mommy," Bianca, now refocused, accepted that reply, not knowing that later on in her life, the lie will become evident. She aimed the athame, and threw it, the sharp point slicing through the air and striking exactly in the center of one of Teddy's black oval eyes.
Chris stared at the grown up woman in front of him. Was that somewhat innocent girl really the killer in front of him?
She was more like him that he originally thought. They were both born into a line with a destiny, one that determines their life before they were even born.
Bianca was destined to be a killer, Chris was destined to help innocents, and both were at the expense of their own lives and desires.
To tell the truth, he'd never thought of evil in that way. He was never sure Bianca was evil in the first place. She always seemed far more human than a mere demon; she had more than just a desire and purpose to live and kill.
She wanted to be happy, and knew that she could never be that unless she was out of Wyatt's grasp.
And now Chris knew the truth. She really was human, just like him, for his Grandpa was a mortal. He had always treasured that normal part of him; it was always the thing that kept him sane in his insane life.
As it seems, Bianca's human half was what compelled her to survive.
Both of them needed that mortal part of them.
"Why the hell are you looking at me like that?" Bianca hissed, shoving an embarrassed Chris off her.
"I'm sorry . . . I think I had a premonition or something," Chris explained. He didn't go into detail though; he wasn't sure how Bianca would react to him seeing images of her past, and he guessed it wouldn't be good. He himself felt a little intrusive, though involuntarily so, by seeing her memories.
But Bianca refused to be distracted. "What'd you see?" she snapped, a slight blush creeping up her neck. She didn't know why she was blushing though. It was Chris who had been twitching like he'd been hit with bug spray, not her.
Before Chris could think of a plausible lie, he collapsed backwards onto the ground.
Bianca sighed impatiently. "Must you always fall?" she asked dryly, but her expression changed when she saw his state. He was staring at his hands, which were clammy and twitching uncontrollably. Chris was also sweating profusely, blinking fiercely as if trying to get a stray eyelash out.
"H –Help." He moaned, holding his head in his hands, shuddering even more violently.
"It's okay, it's going to be okay," Bianca assured him, trying to keep the uncertainty out of her voice. She was freaked out by Chris's behavior. As a Phoenix, she's never seen anyone have a premonition, but she seriously doubted this is how one reacted.
Leaning down to Chris's side, her hands paused over him, unsure what to do. All she knew in the field of healing was dressing a wound, not twitching and magically induced premonitions. How could she help? She was an assassin, not a healer.
So she has to bring him to a healer.
But where?
"Chris," she called. "Chris, you have to listen to me. Where is the Resistance base? Or, better yet, where are the whitelighters?"
Chris continued to tremble, finally managing to spurt out, "Can't. Tell. You."
Bianca screamed in frustration. "I need to get you help Chris! Tell me right now!"
"N –No."
"Dumbass!" she fumed.
There was no choice. Bianca would have to take him to her apartment, and hope that she can produce a spell that wouldn't warn Wyatt of Chris's presence if he sensed for Bianca.
Wrenching Chris's hands away from his head, Bianca shimmered both of them out. She would have to find a way to contact the Resistance, send them a signal besides chalking the athame black.
As she shimmered them both into her bedroom, Bianca carefully laid Chris into it and made him as comfortable as she possibly could. As she stared at his twitching body with a raised eyebrow, Bianca knew she was stumped.
What the hell was she supposed to do?
Well, she supposed she could just leave him there to his twitching and attempt to get some healers there.
"Don't. Just. Leave. Me!" Chris gasped out as he managed to gather enough strength to speak.
Bianca spread her arms out wide helplessly. "Do I look like a nurse to you?"
But Chris resumed twitching, so she just shrugged it off and went to summon some proper medical assistance.
Chris was in pain. He could see flashes of the past, mostly, but they all came by so fast that his brain didn't have time to process all of them.
In between the surges of agony, Chris realized that someone was doing this to him. It was like that story his Aunt Phoebe had told him one time, about Aunt Prue and how she got the empathic power.
It almost killed her.
He was sure this is what the premonition power was doing to him.
But what confused him the most was the fact that most of the memories were Melinda's. He had gotten that taste of Bianca's past because he'd touched her, but all of his cousin's memories were there, and he hasn't even seen her in years. Wyatt always hid Melinda in some place.
But now he was getting flashes of Melinda's own life, and he finally discovered how Wyatt had turned his cousin to the side of evil.
Fear.
"I want Mommy!" Melinda cried out, tears falling down her sooty face.
"Your mommy's been dead for two years, little girl. I'd suggest you start accepting it and moving on. Or I'll be . . . forced . . . to keep on doing this until you break." The demon hissed cruelly before backhanding her face hard.
Melinda bit her lip, weeping bitterly.
Pen . . . Chris . . . Prue . . . why didn't you save me?
"Because they don't love you,"
She looked up slowly, her entire twelve year old body trembling as she locked eyes with her oldest cousin, Wyatt Halliwell.
"You're lying!"
"No I'm not," Wyatt replied patiently, speaking to Melinda as if she were a five year old.
The demon punched her nose hard, and Melinda could feel a definite crack as a sharp pain caused her eyes to water even more. But after hours of torture, she was beginning to feel so numb that the pain didn't last for long, though she could feel the shattered bones in her nose.
He turned to the demon angrily, yelling, "Why the hell did you do that?"
"You –You wished me to torture her, sir," he stammered, fear reflecting in his coal black eyes.
"I didn't wish you to shatter bones! Merely breaking them would suffice." With that, Wyatt formed an energy ball, sending it at the demon, causing it to combust in flames. He reached a hand out and only healed Melinda's nose.
Wyatt leaned in closer, his eyes sparkling menacingly. "I can make it stop, Melinda. If you join me, we can avenge our mothers."
"No . . . you aren't my cousin. You killed those people. I hate you!"
He flinched slightly from the venom in the preteen's voice, but retained his composure, his face determined.
"You'll see things my way soon enough . . ." Wyatt stated, regret laced in his voice. He called for another torture demon and left her.
Melinda closed her eyes shut, preparing herself for the next blow, all the while wondering where her other cousins and sister could be, hoping against hope that her family would come for her soon.
Chris trembled even more, wondering where the hell Bianca had gone. As Melinda received each blow, Chris felt like he was being hit along with her.
And he couldn't help but feel like he deserved it. A guilty knot only intensified his pain, which had now spread to giving him a major migraine, reminding him of his failure, of how he couldn't save Melinda.
He had left her to bear the pain alone.
Now, he was getting some distinct form of vengeance in the form of her memories.
Then, it occurred to him that Melinda was probably the one behind all of this.
Bracing himself for another flashback, Chris cursed the Phoenix and tried to send her some sort of mental "hurry up" message before succumbing into another one of his lost cousin's memories.
"Damn it!" Bianca cursed; she had tried everything she could to contact the Resistance. Unfortunately, she had been foolish and didn't plan as well as she should have; now she had no way to send them out to her.
It had never occurred to Bianca that she would ever need the Resistance to come to her aid, or at least, to the aid of their leader, who was unable to orb himself down to them.
Not willing to admit defeat, Bianca wondered if Chris had come to some kind of conclusion as to why this is happening. She'd done everything she could. Bianca had put up an even stronger protection spell, so all she had to do now was break this spell.
Sitting on the side of the bed, she stared into Chris's green eyes, now clouded and crazed. She'd never seen the leader so vulnerable. He usually had a cold, polite mask whenever they met.
Today, Bianca saw weakness.
Staring into Chris's eyes, Bianca was startled to feel his sweaty, clammy hands groping for hers. Surprising even herself, she allowed him to hold her hand, even squeezing it reassuringly.
Bianca knew that if she waited long enough, perhaps Chris would let her on to some clue as to how to stop this.
After all, he was the son of a Charmed One.
Bianca's acute senses picked up a faint sputtering of words coming from Chris.
"M –Me . . ."
"Me?" Bianca asked quizzically, even though she knew Chris probably wouldn't answer. His confusing remark didn't help Bianca much in being able to help him.
"Melinda," Chris's raspy voice choked out, his eyes locking with Bianca's for a moment, a sure sign that he was giving her the identity of the one doing this to him.
Bianca's eyebrows rose. "The Halliwell girl? Melinda Halliwell?"
Chris couldn't give her an answer, but she was sure that's what he had meant. It has to be.
"I'll be back," Bianca assured Chris, prying her hand away from his, and shimmered out, knowing now exactly what she had to do to stop Melinda's voodoo magic.
Melinda had gone without food for what felt like an eternity.
By this time, she was no longer Melinda anymore.
Her mind was filled with images, her own imaginary world she had taken shelter in during the time of her captivity.
But now, Wyatt had used his magic to force Melinda out of her comfort zone, forcing her to accept reality, to accept the cold darkness around her.
The torch lights in the cell did nothing to lessen the emptiness of the room. Its flames flickered at all hours, the shadows dancing across the walls. The crackling of the fire was deafening in the silence.
Melinda couldn't take it anymore. Reality was too hard. She could feel herself slipping away, the girl she once was and clung on to was begin stripped away to join her mother in death . . .
Laughing at the situation, a crazed maniacal look in her eyes, Melinda called for Wyatt.
"Have you thought about it?" Wyatt asked casually.
Melinda nodded, still giggling, "Yes."
Her oldest cousin smiled. "I'll take good care of you Melinda. You won't have to see the rough process of the takeover. Inside the Manor, you will be safe from them. Will you help me achieve this goal?" Wyatt asked as he used his telekinesis to untie the ropes from Melinda, positioning his hand over Melinda, a black glow emitting from his hands as he healed his cousin with dark magic.
Fully healed, Melinda smiled crazily at her cousin. "If I help you with the takeover, you will help me get revenge on the traitor cousins and sister."
It was not a question.
Wyatt smiled, pleased that Melinda bought his earlier lie. "Yes. Together, we'll restore the name of the Halliwell line that my dear brother has so horribly tainted."
Melinda laughed as she felt her cousin twisting and writhing in pain. The only downside to this particular curse was that someone of the victim's blood has to keep on giving blood every fifteen minutes, so unless you had a bunch of relatives in tow, the spell wouldn't last that long.
But as it seems, these particular memories were hitting Chris hard, and he would soon die of exhaustion.
She never meant to give him her memories; he was supposed to get the memories of the one closest to him with the most skeletons in their closet.
As it seems, the blood tie between them as well as the things Melinda witnessed when she was younger far surpassed anyone Chris had been near at the time.
Wyatt wouldn't approve of this plan, Melinda knew that. He wanted to keep his brother alive, his sentiment for him and reluctance to kill this particular soul has slowed their progress tremendously.
Chris was Wyatt's weakness.
Her cousin would be pleased to know that Melinda was ridding him of that weakness.
Suddenly, she felt faint. Holding the bleeding hand to her head, Melinda decided that she needed to rest, just for a little.
After all, she couldn't give blood if she was unconscious, could she?
A few beats after Melinda closed the door, Bianca shimmered into her secret room, glancing around coldly.
Finding exactly what she was looking for, Bianca kicked Melinda's cauldron over with all the force she could exert, causing it to crack.
Satisfied that Melinda's and the Manor's source of power was gone, Bianca shimmered back to Chris's side, who gasped and sat up straight as he was released from the spell.
"Easy does it," Bianca encouraged as she handed him a glass of water.
"Thanks," he rasped.
"No problem." Bianca replied, smiling, feeling relieved that he was okay.
Chris shook his mop of brown hair vigorously, trying to get Melinda's memories out of his head. "I saw Melinda's memories, what Wyatt did to her . . . it was horrible. And I couldn't save her from it . . ."
He wasn't sure why he was telling Bianca this, but he felt like he had to say it out loud.
"You could have done nothing to prevent it." Bianca told him truthfully, "When Wyatt wants something, he usually gets it."
"Not anymore," Chris shot back defiantly, his green eyes flashing, "Not anymore."