2027 cont.
"Taking a break?" Bianca asked as Wyatt appeared in the hallway. He nodded.
"How are things down here?"
"Quiet," Bianca returned, her arms folded as she leant against the wall opposite Amanda's door. "Do you want me to hel—"
"No," Wyatt interrupted. Sullenly her gaze dropped to the floor.
"You're making me feel as trapped as the prisoners down here," she stated.
"I do allow you to go home whenever you want to."
"That's not what I mean," she said, lifting her gaze to his. "Why won't you let me go out in the field anymore? Why can't I fight for you like the others?"
He averted his eyes, lifting his hand to his face and playing with his bottom lip. Watching him squeeze it between thumb & forefinger thoughtfully, she remembered the other times she had seen him do that. It was a subconscious tell of fear and uncertainty when he considered how to separate whatever he cared about from peril.
"It's too dangerous. I already hurt you once…"
"Wyatt," she said, pushing herself off the wall. Instead of looking at her, he moved his head away. She ducked back into his line of sight. "You know… I do forgive you. You're really trying."
Refusing to look at her, trying to hide both the guilt and the hope he felt from the statement she'd made that lay in his eyes, he turned his head towards the door and changed the topic of conversation. She knew he was avoiding the discussion. He barely even made mention of Chris anymore. It was as if his younger brother didn't exist, although she knew that wasn't the case. She still remembered him, and none of the events of the past had changed.
"Let's see what she's doing. I don't trust the quiet ones," Wyatt said, waving his hand by the door to release the lock.
"Wyatt," Bianca pressed. He lifted his head.
"Don't think by telling me that I will let you fight because you prefer to, or that it's going to stop me from killing her," he said coldly as he wrenched open the door.
She sighed. Wetting her lips, she followed him into the room. Amanda was curled up rather uncomfortably on the floor, facing the back wall. It seemed like she had been able to withstand the cold and hardness beneath her and fallen asleep. Standing just inside the doorway, Bianca watched Wyatt close in on her, crouching down and laying a hand upon her arm.
Amanda jumped, startled awake as images flooded her mind. She saw many people die by Wyatt's hand, but she also saw those he saved… or at least tried to. She saw how distraught he was at being unable to bring his mother back to life, felt the heartbreak he suffered as Bianca died in his arms. She saw him heal her and that image gave way to the dull grey of the room, the last two people in her vision both standing before her looking quite healthy. Baffled, she concentrated her sight on Wyatt.
"Are you trying to scare me to death?" she asked. "That would be new for you."
Wyatt drew away, standing next to Bianca as Amanda pushed herself up into a seated position.
"If I were trying to kill you, I think it would have to be slow and sufficiently torturous to equate for your belligerence," he said.
"Huh?" she asked, casting her gaze over to Bianca.
"I think he means to say you should be quiet before you put your life into jeopardy," Bianca explained.
"Yeah, kinda got that much with the whole threatening part – oh, was I meant to shut up now?"
Wyatt sighed, looking adamantly at Bianca. She did little more than take a step towards Amanda, reluctant to inflict injury upon the girl. Turning her attention back to Wyatt, she decided to press him a little further to procrastinate the duty.
"Do you have anything you need to ask her before I remove her tongue? She won't be able to answer you," Bianca said. Reactively, Amanda covered her mouth.
"Indeed I do," he said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out two small folded pages, casting it on the floor in front of her. "What are these? They were found on you by my guards."
Cautiously glancing towards Bianca, Amanda crawled forward and un-crumpled the papers, smoothing out the sheets. Sitting back on her heels, she looked up to Wyatt.
"Honestly?" she asked. He nodded. "My drug of choice. They're spells. They keep my powers at bay for a few hours so I don't freak out like I did just then. I bet you didn't know visions can be blinding, literally. Hence why I try to keep away from people – it's less disturbing."
Wyatt looked down at the paper with scrutinising acidity. "I don't recognise the text."
"It's from the Book of Ramon. It's ancient. I just happened to stumble across it one day and found it useful."
"Where is the book now?"
"I don't know. It was too heavy to lug around, that's why I only took those pages."
"I want that book," Wyatt said forcefully, almost sounding like a spoilt child. Amanda wasn't swayed.
"Well I guess you better go find it then," she said.
"Bianca, stay here," he ordered, immediately orbing out.
Bianca shifted her gaze from the disappearing orbs to Amanda, not at all fazed by his impulsiveness. She was used to it by now.
"So… what's the deal between you two?" Amanda inquired.
"What deal?" Bianca responded, mystified and a little off-put by the interrogation.
"I saw him heal you."
"So?"
"He is a whitelighter, isn't he?"
"You saw that. What's your point?"
"Are… you his charge?" she probed.
"No."
"Mistress?"
"No!"
"Hmm," Amanda pondered. She held her hand out towards Bianca, palm facing the ceiling. "Touch it."
"What?"
"My hand. Touch it," she insisted. "You can hold a weapon in the other hand, I don't care."
Bianca moved her head slightly, looking at the young girl warily. "I think I'll take you up on that offer."
Shaking her right hand to the side she conjured a dagger, the fingers of her left hand gently pressing down onto Amanda's fingers. Scenes from Bianca's memory flashed through Amanda's mind. Delving through her past she saw the moment Wyatt and Bianca first met; when Bianca had discovered Chris' existence via a personalised note in the Book of Shadows; scenes from a Chinese New Year where Wyatt had made shapes with orbs in the sky and how a leaf falling from a piece of fruit had led to another fight between them and everybody else; her experiences with Chris and how he convinced her that she and Wyatt were doing more harm than good; how she had tried to hide her relationship with Chris from Wyatt and the care she'd showed him when he'd been injured, resulting in confusion of both mind and emotions over who she should have believed. Amanda saw Wyatt encouraging Bianca to destroy her past by killing Michael, and then the final battle between Wyatt and Chris where Bianca became impaled by the broken table, near-death and urging Chris to finish what they'd started.
"You always make him come second to everything else," Amanda observed, her hand falling away. "No wonder there's so much tension between you."
"There's no tension between us," Bianca lied, thinking only of what had happened before they'd walked through the door.
"Do you remember when you looked at the book? You were in his bedroom, he was half-naked – a nice touch might I add – and he got all gruffy when you read the personal letter written for him and Chris. It told you the strength of a whitelighter's healing power was love. You're really dense if you can't see it. He loves you."
"Yeah, he loves me to do things for him. A kidnap here, a stab there," Bianca said, turning away from Amanda and crossing the room in an avoidable manner.
"No, he love loves you."
"He can't love – he's a monster," Bianca stated matter-of-factly as she looked back to Amanda.
"You don't believe that. You wouldn't defend him otherwise. You care about him too."
"No, just…" She shook her head. Turning her face away, she tried to collect her thoughts. "I have a fiancé. I am not going to deceive him like everyone else has me. He's the only one I care about."
"Really? Then why aren't you wearing your ring?"
"Because I gave it back to him for when he returns."
"Do you think he'll come back when you're dead?"
She swallowed hard, feeling all the more riled up. Angrily she turned and strode towards the door, quickly exiting the room. Storming down the hallway, she folded her arms and dropped down onto the seat that had become her latest residence. She knew Amanda was right. Chris had clearly stated to her in the past that there was nothing left for him in the future. She knew he had only said it to spite her, but now she wondered how much truth was in that comment. He had left before Wyatt healed her. He would have presumed her dead. Maybe that was why nothing had changed. Maybe he never planned on coming back. He'd left her with very little here – left her to deal with his brother alone. But she was sure she could handle it. She had before Chris had come along.
Now she remembered the page in the book that Amanda was talking about – when she had first asked Wyatt who Chris was, when she had thought Wyatt was lying to her and hiding things from her, when she was unable to trust anybody and yet she revealed her inner core to Wyatt when he'd told her to trust him if she could trust no-one else. Amanda's visions were not wrong, she had seen and read the text, but to her it proved nothing over the issue of whether he loved her.
"You would think an antique warehouse could be more fucking organised than this," Wyatt grumbled, lifting a priceless painting and casting it aside. He paid no heed to the canvas ripping, the oil painting tearing away from the frame as it crashed against the corner of another wooden crate.
Climbing on top of one of the boxes, Wyatt aimed his hands at the steel latch on the box before him and flicked his fingers. It sparked, busting open as he had planned and leaving the box free to be rummaged through. Again all he found was another useless vase or antique clock. The Book of Ramon was nowhere to be found.
Climbing back down he heard someone shimmer into the room. Pausing for a moment and listening keenly he found it was only one sole intruder and so chanced heading into the open area where the sound had come from.
"Didn't I tell you to stay?" Wyatt asked irritably upon seeing Bianca in the centre of the room. She turned at the sound of his voice.
"I'm not a dog," she answered.
"No, you're my employee and when I give you an order you follow it!"
"I'm not going to be a fucking babysitter, Wyatt! You hired me to be an assassin. Let me be one!"
"Fine, slay away," Wyatt said, opening his arms. She looked around quickly. "There's nothing here, Bianca. It's not all about the killing."
"That's the pot calling the kettle black, isn't it?"
Wyatt turned away avoidably. "Go back, Bianca."
"No," she said resolutely. "Why are you so determined for me to stay out of your way?"
"I don't want you around… because it irritates me to have you so close by."
Bianca scoffed and looked at him offensively, pressing her tongue to the inside of her cheek. Storming around his stationary figure, she stood stubbornly before him, glaring.
"Then why didn't you just let me die?" she asked cynically.
He looked down into her heated gaze, irritated with her incessant questioning, annoyed that she would remind him of such a sensitive subject. He moved to grab her chin between thumb and forefinger, the touch instantly softening as he made contact, the nook of his finger curling and sliding underneath. His thumb fell away in a brushing motion, all the inclination to hurt her again gone in that brief second.
He drew his finger back slightly, lifting the base of her chin. Lowering his head he pressed his lips gently to hers. Light as air, he pulled away quickly and dropped his hand, swallowing as he turned away and headed for the door.
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that," he mumbled apologetically.
Bianca watched him make his way outside, frozen to the very same spot, her mind trying to process what had just happened. So stunned was she that she felt she couldn't move until she tentatively raised her fingers to her lips, lightly touching the tips to them as she tried to comprehend the very reason they were tingling was because someone else's had just been there.
Her eyes drifting down to the floor in thought, she didn't see Wyatt re-emerge, her gaze shifting up to him as she heard his footsteps traipsing across the concrete floor towards her.
"Wyatt," she began, not sure what she should say to him. This was all far too confusing for her.
"Screw the consequences," he said, more reassuring himself than directing the thought at her.
Stepping forward, he pulled her towards him, feeling her body pressed against his as he pressed his lips harder to hers. She'd never felt so much passion, emotion and fervour poured into one kiss, and she'd never felt so much from it. Not even with… She ceased kissing him, pushing against his chest as she settled back onto her heels.
"Chris," she said in realisation. "I can't do this to him."
"Why not?"
"Do you know how many times Michael did this to me?"
"And you think my brother's a saint?" Wyatt asked pointedly. "He thinks you're dead, Bianca. And even when you were alive he couldn't stay loyal to you."
She shook her head briskly. "I can't."
"Do you know how frustrating it is for me to have to stand by and watch you throw your life away on my useless brother? Don't hold out for him. He's not coming back, and he's not worth it."
"How can you…" she started, but the words fell away, she couldn't disprove him, she couldn't fight him after what had just happened between them.
"Don't deny yourself, Bianca. I don't care if you just walk away from all of this and never come back, but please, don't drag this out anymore. Tell me you didn't feel anything. Tell me it's all in my head."
"I can't tell you anything. I don't know what I'm feeling."
"I can't keep doing this, Bianca. What do you want?" he demanded.
"I want to be happy!" she shouted at him. Quietening down a little she added: "I just wanted to feel loved."
"Have you always been this blind? Everything I did for you was out of love. I know I did some stupid things, but I've loved you all along. Even when I thought I'd lost you I kept trying. I could never give up on you. But I just need to hear you say it."
"No," she responded, shaking her head. "It's not possible."
"Then forget I ever said anything. This never happened," he said. Moving to another box, he stood before it and lifted his hands. They were visibly shaking. It took him multiple attempts using his powers just to open the wooden crate this time.
"It seems like everyone knew except me," she said abruptly.
"Why do you say that?" he asked.
"Because Amanda knew," she replied. Wyatt froze. "She has visions that reveal everything, Wyatt. You'd do better to keep her than kill her."
"And what's to say she won't betray me. She's too unpredictable to keep alive."
"At one time you could have said the same thing about me," Bianca pointed out. Wyatt sighed.
"Okay," he agreed. "But she only stays until we find this book and she helps me with it. After that whatever she does is going to count towards whether she remains living or not."
Bianca nodded. "I'll go back and see if she knows any more than she's letting on."
Shimmering back to the house, Bianca reappeared before Amanda's doorway. Leaning back against the adjacent wall she folded her arms. Thinking back, she lifted her hand to her lips and brushed her fingers across them again. In a contemplative moment she began to wonder if she really did care about Wyatt as much as Amanda had told her she did.