A/N: I know, I know, I know. I LIVE! I went of Charmed, but now, having purchased Season Six (it kicks ass!) I am back into it and this fic is being resurrected!

Summary: Christopher Peregrine Halliwell died. Yet he is now alive and well. Surely that doesn't happen so easily? And if it does, whatever happened to the Chris who died to save him?

Disclaimer: Charmed belongs to someone who is very rich, so we can immediately assume it is not me. Don't sue, you'll only get a half empty jar of old fashioned jelly babies.

Chapter 7

Christopher Peregrine Halliwell's sleep was far from peaceful. It had begun with him finding it difficult to actually drift off. When he had finally done so, he found himself waking often only to strangle a dying scream in his throat; and wondering why he was screaming. The details of the affliction which plagued him fled from him like sand slipping through his fingers.

He stared up at the ceiling and tried to catch his breath. It seemed…so familiar, so close, and yet he couldn't put his finger on it. Was he coming down with something? He kept blacking out, and then forgetting what had made him do so. What was happening to him? Was he going insane?

Chris shuddered, and goose bumps rose up his arms as he curled in on himself and burrowed deeper into the mass of bedding lying in a tangled heap around him.

It was almost midnight.

Meanwhile, high up beneath the darkly shifting skies, Perry sat hunched in a nook between two iron beams on the bridge he had once been so fond of. Here, sheltered from the rain, he leant his head back and closed his eyes; unbidden, a memory invaded his senses:

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Silence.

"Wy…?"

"Yeah?"

Green eyes grew stormy grey and narrowed slightly.

"Where's Mummy?"

Wyatt grasped the brightly coloured back of one of the kitchen chairs, and propped it against the kitchen counter, before turning briefly to reply.

"She went to P3, Chris."

He clambered up onto the chair and kneeled on the counter, reaching a hand up to the cupboard above the sink.

"It won't-"

Wyatt snatched his hand back with an exclamation as a spark flickered and his arm recoiled, a stab of pain having been inflicted from the previous invisible shield around the cupboard.

"-work. See."

Chris smiled triumphantly, hurrying over from beside the table to stand peering over the counter and upwards, on tiptoe. He placed both arms up to the elbows on the edge and gestured towards the cupboard with a chubby forefinger.

"Mummy en-chan-ted it. I saw her." He enunciated clearly, proudly. Wyatt chose to ignore the lack of decent grammar, and glared up at the cupboard, pouting slightly. There was a long pause.

"What we gonna do now, Wy?"

Wyatt climbed down from the chair to stand beside his brother, deep in thought.

"I could…move it out of the shield…"

Wyatt's face brightened and he grabbed his little brother's hand, pulling him carefully back to stand just behind him. He closed his eyes and concentrated.

There was a loud crash, a cry of startled joy from Chris and Wyatt's hand was released. He opened his eyes to see the cupboard lying a little ajar by the kitchen table, Chris peering at it in apprehension. Wyatt hurried over, and his face fell, then clouded with frustration.

"She emptied it!" he muttered, and Chris looked up at him dejectedly, eyes wide. Wyatt huffed and crossed his arms, cursing his mother's prowess in magic. There was a short pause.

"We'll…just have to do without secondary magic, then."

"How?"

Wyatt absently tickled his brother to a shower of giggles and squirms, while he thought carefully. Chris quieted and watched him patiently, trusting in his brother's inventive genius…most of the time.

"We've used the 'ill' excuse…and the mentally disturbed…and the sudden mood swings…"

He slammed his fist into the table.

"What else is there!"

Chris cried out, slightly frightened of Wyatt's burst of anger, eyes wide and overbright, bottom lip quivering; he sniffled. Wyatt winced. That look could inspire armies, he was sure of it.

"Oh, Chris, don't." he muttered, as he reached down to pick his younger brother up and balance him on his own waist. Due to Wyatt's sudden growth spurt at the age of twelve, Chris' pitiful 3 foot 6 was hardly up to the challenge at age nine. Strangely, Wyatt suddenly felt so much older than his younger brother.

Then he froze.

"Chris, you're a genius!"

Chris blinked, momentary outburst forgotten in his surprise.

"I'm a… gen-es-is?"

This went unanswered, as Wyatt was too busy going over the finer details of his hastily conjured plot.

"Yes, perfect!" he exclaimed, spinning his little brother and himself round and round on the spot, till they were both so dizzy they fell over in a pile of windswept limbs. He smiled up at Chris with a slightly sinister smile.

"He'll never know what hit him."

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Piper Halliwell-Wyatt closed the door with unnecessary care, while attempting to smile reassuringly. Not that her company needed this, of course. But any form of comfort before a meeting with her children was well appreciated before the end of the day. She wondered what new scheme they had come up with to send her newest interest packing this time. Last time, it had been Chris spontaneously coming down with such a high fever Mark had insisted they go to hospital, then miraculously recovering just before an injection of antibiotics was given.

David, a tall, brown curly haired man with smiling eyes, smiled back and looked around.

"So, this is where the magic happens."

Piper suppressed a wince at the unintentional pun.

"Uh, yeah. Do you want a drink, or something?"

"No, thanks. And what about the stars of the show? Where are these two little infamous horrors?"

Piper sighed. A common misconception was that her children were just ordinary troublemakers. Not only did they have extreme prowess in magic on their side, of course, but also a pair of minds devious beyond comprehension.

"They should be upstairs…Wyatt? Chris?"

Piper frowned at the distinct lack of thundering feet, and walked across the hall to stand at the bottom of the staircase.

"WYATT? Chris?"

There was the slamming of a door, and Piper turned back to David with a small smile.

"Kids, huh?"

David grinned.

"You said Wyatt was the eldest?"

Piper smiled, thinking of another incident where precisely this scenario had happened. Mathew, as he was called, had spent all his energies on Wyatt, not seeing Chris as a potential threat. BIG mistake.

"Yes, twelve. And Chris is nine."

"Twelve, and nine…three year gap…so, is Wyatt protective?"

Piper paused to consider. Yes, she supposed, but Chris got protective too…and strangely, this seemed to end in violence in her youngest son's case. She recalled a time when one her previous 'friends' had been engaging in a vigorous tug of war over Wyatt's favourite cushion, then accidentally hit Wyatt in the head with it. He had left promptly, leaving behind a boy with a bruised knee and a shocked mother…and swore off sex for the rest of his life.

Yeah, ouch.

"You could say that."

David was about to reply when a windswept Wyatt entered the kitchen. His eyes scanned the room, rested first on his mother, narrowed, then moved to David, whereupon they turned to slits, and he scrutinized the man. David smiled weakly, attempting an unfazed look.

"Wyatt, right?"

There was a pause.

"Yes."

David stuck out his hand.

"I'm David. Nice to meet you, Wyatt."

Wyatt eyed the hand with distaste, before turning on his heel and leaving the room, seemingly unconcerned.

"Wyatt Mathew Halliwell, you get back here THIS INSTANT!"

Nothing. Piper frowned. Wyatt had never before disobeyed a direct approach, let alone the 'whole name' technique. She moved to the doorway, opened her mouth to shout again, then paused at a tug on her skirt. Looking down, she found a wide eyed Chris staring unblinkingly up at her.

"Oh, hello sweetpea. What are you doing out here?"

Chris reached his arms upwards in a silent command, and Piper sighed but complied, hoisting her youngest son off the floor and settling him on her waist, his head on her shoulder. His hand fisted itself in her hair, and his thumb leapt to his mouth; Piper frowned, concerned. He hadn't behaved like this for a long time. She immediately grew suspicious.

"Chris, what…is the matter?"

She decided to test the waters. Chris said nothing, but turned his head to look at her, eyes drooping slightly with tiredness. Piper glanced about for any sign of her eldest son, and found none. She frowned at him.

"Chris, sweetie, we said no thumb, remember? Thumb is for little boys."

"That's right. You're not a little boy, are you?"

David appeared beside her, smiling down at the boy, hoping for a slightly more promising reaction from the youngest.

Well, it was a different reaction, granted. Chris gave him a single fearful look, took a deep breath, and burst into tears. Piper jumped and nearly dropped him as Chris screwed up his face and screamed with all of his strength. Thundering footsteps sounded once more as David jumped back.

"Get away from him!"

Wyatt knocked David away as he entered once again, and stalked over to his mother as Chris continued to howl. Wyatt reached out his arms for his brother and Chris twisted and wriggled in his mothers grip, trying to free him self. Piper refused to let him go, still suspicious.

"I don't know what is going on, Wyatt Halliwell, but-"

Chris' screaming rose in pitch to the point at which the panes of glass in the windows began to shake. Piper, sensing a sudden rise in magical current, hastily handed Chris over to Wyatt before he attempted to orb. There was a silence, except for a few dwindling sobs which racked Chris' body, then quiet.

"You go on into the dining room, David, I'll be just a minute with the tea."

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They had been together, then. United. A team, a pair of brothers, who took care of each other. David backed off, and their mother had been alone and unhappy once again. He wondered if Wyatt had ever felt guilty…but he doubted it. Times had changed. Wyatt had grown up too fast, seen too many things a child should never have to see. And Chris resented their father for that, for not doing anything to help.

Chris stared down at the small slip of paper, with the spell capable to change all that had passed, to make everything right again.

And smiled for the first time in years.

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In the dark of the new morning, the two halves of Christopher Peregrine Halliwell's soul both awoke to the sinister chime of the old grandfather clock, to a feeling of such empty, bitter cold that one broke down in tears, and the other sat, and thought, and waited.

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A/N: If anyone is still alive out there, any comments would be appreciated! Feel free to send a good kick, too, for taking so long to update… .

Either way, please review! Thanks for reading!