Disclaimer: I don't own Charmed or Christopher Perry Halliwell or Drew Fuller. I only wish I do.

Summary: 'They say I have my mother's smile and my father's eyes.' Chris-angst. One-shot, probably.

Warnings: Don't think there's any.

What He Couldn't Do

They say I have my mother's smile and my father's eyes.

I say it's a load of crap.

My mother had all kinds of smiles. All of them were unique, all of them could mean different things. There were the happy ones, the ones that said 'I don't need anything else, I have everything I could ever want.' There were the sad ones, the 'How could this happen? Why can't we be allowed to live in peace?' ones. There were the resigned ones, the smiles that said 'No matter what we do, it'll never be enough.' There were the proud ones, the amused ones, and the deadly ones.

But for me and Wyatt, she had two certain types of smile. One meant just for me, and one meant just my older brother. She always could just smile Wyatt's smile at him, and he'd be Wy again. My hero, my idol, my big brother and not that stranger who'd have this dark…glint in his eyes. When she died…

I miss those smiles.

I don't know my father's eyes. He was never around long enough for me to figure out, for sure, what made them special. My aunts said that they could either be green or blue or grey or some combination of all three. My mother said that a certain type of look could come into them, it could either calm people down or strike fear into their hearts. When he looked at her, she said, she felt all the love she could've imagined and more. And it was all for her. She always spoke of how much she loved those eyes.

They all said that all he had to do was look at Wyatt when he was going too far, and he'd be Wy again.

I don't know my father's eyes. They never looked at me long enough for me to figure out what they held for me.

My mother died on my fourteenth birthday. Phoebe died on my fifteenth, Paige on my seventeenth. My father died on my eighteenth.

My mother would never smile at me again, she would never ruffle my hair, hug me, or grab me just when I was about to orb out in the middle of a…discussion. Phoebe would never pinch my cheeks, she would never do that stupid baby talk crap when she knew I needed to smile, she would never give me advice that would keep me out of trouble with my newest girlfriend. Paige would never be there to kick my ass when I needed a kick, she would never call me a 'neurotic little freak', she would never be there again. My aunts and my mother, the best women I had ever known, my best friends, would never love me again.

But more than that, my mother would never smile at Wyatt again, and I lost my brother slowly to that stranger with the eyes mortals, witches, and demon feared.

My father would never look at me, would never see me in the way I had wanted for as long as I could remember. But more than that, he would never look at Wyatt again. He wouldn't look at Wyatt and keep him Wyatt.

They say I have my mother's smile and my father's eyes.

It's a load of crap.

When I smiled at Wyatt, I'd end up being TK'ed into a wall. So I stopped smiling. My mother's smile on my face couldn't stop him. It couldn't save him. When I looked at Wyatt with my father's eyes and tried to reason with him, my brother would disappear and the Lord of Power would backhand me so hard, I'd wake up with a concussion. My father's eyes in my face couldn't bring my brother back, instead, it drove him even farther away.

Maybe if I really had my mother's smile and my father's eyes I could do then what I'm trying so hard to do twenty-three years in my family's past. Maybe I could save my brother.

But I don't really have my mother's smile or my father's eyes, I can't do what they could. I can't be what they were.

When I look into the mirror, and I see these lips and I look into these eyes, I know what I can't do.

So, why the hell am I trying so hard?