Thank you for reading. Here's another chapter. Enjoy.
I run faster than you" said the turtle to the mouse.
"Ho,well," shrugged the mouse, "I get to eat cheese."
Chapter 9
You lay in the place people use to call darkness and pray. Because duskiness has now evaded all parts of life and even your sanctuary- your home, your bed- are not safe anymore. You listen to what people use to call wind, what they use to name as ruffle and you tear your mattress away. Without thinking, without knowing what you are doing, you take the sheet and tear it down strip after strip systematically as if you actually know what you are doing.
Then the pillow is gone as well and the baby blue blanket that you loved so much when they gave it to you because it reminded you of home. You cannot face it, cannot touch it, but you tear it. Tear it away. Tear it apart.
Your bed is shaking, the floor turning away. Black. Everything blackens - - -Something is shattered far away - -A raven is screaming, nails scratching a board - - Pain. Misery. Sadness. The room is closing on you, fast. Have to hide.
The bed is trembling. Floor is shaking as well. Hot. It's so hot . . . need air. Breathe.
Somewhere someone is shootinh. Too loud!
Door creaks. Fire. Red and hot. Hot. So hot. Can't breathe . . . need air.
Breathe!
Can't.
"Chris, open up, please." The monster behind the door is trying to lure you into its claws. You are not naïve enough to open the door. So youkeep it closed. Just the way you like it- safe.
"Come on, honey, talk to me." The voice is softening, impersonating caring and loving. But you will not fall to that trap; all the prey has the right to run away.
Run!
You crawl from under the bed and are assailed by a bright light. The noise would not stop; it gets louder and louder, ringing in your ear. It would not stop. Would not stop.
Would someone stop it?
Please!
You scream, "SSTTTTOOOOPPPP!"
It doesn't.
But you hope that it will. Hope is all you have been left with. So you scream and wonder. Wonder and scream. All time seems to be the present, yesterday, and even tomorrow morning. For time means nothing in the void that you have created in which you hope to stay forever.
"Please, baby, I want to talk to you." Just for a moment, you are tempted to do that, to open the door and to explain anything, to believe that everything is still salvable. That they can still love you, accept you, or simply not hate you so much. Maybe.
You open the door.
You don't want to but your hand is opening the door almost without asking you. As if you are possessed. At this point, you will not rule out possession completely since maybe love is a kind of control. The meanest kind of control since the other person manages to manipulate you even when you know that you are being controlled. But you like every moment of it because this is called love and smarter people than you have already stated that life without love is not worth living.
"Thank god, I was worried...what happened?" Piper asks and you do not know if she asks about you, the way that your face is blackened and dull, or the room. The ever-neat room now looks like the remains of a war zone. Perhaps this is exactly what it is, a war between you and yourself, of the darkest parts of you and those you never knew were lit, and the you who still believes- won.
"Nothing, really. I'm fine." you say and do not know if you were ever farther from fine in your entire life.
"Please don't lie to me. I can see that you are not fine."
"You have no right using that tune on me." You glare, your temper rising when you hear her patronizing words. Those hateful words that you have heard many times before, one time too many times before, and right before she died.
The transformation is amazing. The once so fierce woman is shrinking into herself. All her self-confidence and bravado disappearing into thin air, into herself ,maybe, to the place that you know she can still love you and that you will savor forever.
"I'm sorry," youput your hand on her shoulder. You did not mean to hurt her, not now. It is too soon.
"It's ok. I get it. I'm not the mother you know or at least, not yet." She emphasizes the last word and in that one word you are being given insight in to what she must be feeling. She does not know you, you realize, does not know anything about you. However, she still loves and cares about you enough to swallow your angry words and to forgive. You, who knew her your entire life, will never be able to absolve her.
"I'm sorry about…before."
"What happened?" she asks and just for a moment, her eyes are less shining and the aura around her is a bit less pure. Probably your imagination, but only for this fragment of a second, she looks less perfect, more reachable and someone that might even understand the meaning of necessity.
Then you blink and the picture is blurring around her and she returns to be her righteous self. You have to lie. It can protect you.This is the closest thing to safe that you can reach with your door wide open.
You think quickly of an excuse. You settle for part of the truth. "I panicked."
"Why? What happened?" If you had not known, had not felt, that she was your enemy, she would have cracked you in those words. Thankfully, though, you are immune to this psychological war. She died, and ghosts are emotionless.
You look at her, at the blue crib that is beside you and her again. An idea is tinkling in your head and you know already even before saying it that she will buy your excuse. Even before winning, you know that she has lost. "I still remember some things from the other timeline," you say and shrug theatrically hoping that you are a much better actor than you were in high school. "He did something to the book . . . he, I mean Wyatt. I couldn't touch it. I suddenly remembered it and panicked. I don't know why. I'm sorry"
"Oh, Chris why didn't you just tell me?"
"I didn't want to worry you. You already have so much to think about, so many people are your responsibility. I don't ever want to cause you pain." For a moment, you actually believe your words and in that precious moment all time ceases to mean anything. The globe stops turning, you halt and breathe. You want to go back to your hiding, where you were safe, did not need to confront your feeling, or lie about them. You only had to lie to yourself, which was fine.
You were used to that.
Her face is sorrowful for a minute and then she collects you in her arms, her body quivering while being warm, soft, and welcoming. It reminds you of better times, of worse times and of moments that are beyond this one's comprehension. If you could have, you would have melted into her arms and hugged her back, turning all vile thought into nothing, becoming the son she deserves to have. If you could have, you would have told her everything in that minute, all the things you have hidden from her, hidden from yourself and said internally that it was fine, that you could manage. You would have confessed in front of her that it is not all right, that you cannot survive like this. That everything confuses you all of a sudden. Because you have always believed that you belonged to the right side, the one that believed that the greater cause allows casualties but now it is not ok. The casualty was her, your brother, your family, and everyone that was close to you that is gone. If you could have, you would have told her that you are sorry, so very much. Sorry that you cannot be sorry and beg her for forgiveness. You would have told her everything if she had wanted because deep inside you want to tell her. You need to extract the poison from your heart, so you can live.
If you could have you would had told her all of that. But the last time you confessed before her, you told her that you killed Wyatt and she went and killed herself. The newborn baby died. Hope died. Even Adam abandoned you to fight windmills far away from you and though he told himself that it was for your sake, you know better, he wanted to get away from you. For you were a murderer and even your brother could not stand the sight of you any longer.
So you instead, you lie.
You rip your body away from hers and smile. "I'm ok, Mom. Really."
It does not matter that the word Mom is choked down your throat and up your spine, that you shudder in fear of what she may think of you if she had known, and afraid of the moment that it will come. Because it will come and when it happens, you will care. Even though you will not want to, you will not have a choice. You are programmed to respond to her, you were taught to want only her approval, by whatever means possible.
"Chris, listen to me and listen very carefully. I mean it. You are my son. I want to worry about you. It's not a burden and I don't want you to not tell me something because you're afraid it might hurt me. No matter what you say and what you do, I'll never, ever, not accept you. Do you understand me?"
"I can't," you say and then hurry to explain when you see her open her mouth to object. "Not because I don't want to but because I can't. I don't want to talk about it. I don't want to have to remember it. Is that too much to ask?" You wonder from where all that bitterness came all of a sudden.
She stays silent. Maybe she does not want to say that the all-powerful mother does not have a magic solution to this one.
"You have to face your fears," she says softly and you mockingly wonder what she knows about fears.
"Why?"
"Otherwise they'll consume you. You know what happened after Prue died, honey, don't you?"
She became a fairy for a while. She could not deal with having anyone die anymore so she fought so everyone would live. Thankfully, she was too big so the other fairies did not accept her. It is weird to think that she was saved due to technicalities. Still, you wonder what happened to her here.
Maybe she sees the question mark on your face because she says, "I became a fury. That's…"
"An anger sucking demon. I know." You were a pretty good friend to some of them, all thanks to Sheila, Morris's wife. After all, she was the witch of seduction. It was in her party that you met the other magical beings.
"How did you manage to turn back into yourself?" you ask and are surprised to realize that you are actually interested.
"I really didn't tell you?" She sounds genuinely surprised. Not that it should surprise you. Mom did like to tell you in great detail about everything that happened to her that was magic related. . .and many things that weren't. "Cole saved me"
"Cole?"
You know your mouth is opened in a very un-lordish way and that for the sake of your cover you should not let her see your surprise but…Cole? They did not even meet him yet in your time. However, in order to maintain the cosmic balance, the power of three has to die the same time in all the universes. Here it probably did not happen because of Cole so they could meet him sooner.
"Wasn't Cole evil?" You find a dignifying answer for the trouble you have put yourself into. After all, if in your universe he was good then here he was evil. Hmm…that is a nice imagination motivation.
"That was much later. And he always loved Phoebe. He would do anything to help her. Anything."
"Why are you defending him like that? He was evil."
"I don't know." She sighed and looked genuinely confused for a minute. "I guess that not everything is as easy as black and white, good and evil. Cole had a bad side, yes, but he fought that side for the sake of the one he loved. I found that noble even back then, when he hurt all of us so much."
"But… you're good witches. How can you tolerate having someone that's not pure and good among you?"
She looks at you shocked for a minute and then her face softens. "You are good , Chris. And even if you weren't, I'd still love you. God knows that nobody's perfect."
"You are," you blurt out without intending to.
She looks at you, calculating something and shame fills her face. "I treated you so horribly in all those months you were here. Oh, baby, I don't think I can ever forgive myself. And even now…"
She swallows her words, mumbling something but your curiosity has peaked already. You will not let her back down now.
"I forgave you already." You find that it is much easier to say that than you thought it would be and you really mean it. You do not hate her anymore, you find in amazement. In those few moments, she became real to you. Someone who can hurt and be hurt just like everyone else. Though you do not know what she has done to the other you, you do not care. She made a mistake. She is not perfect. She is human.
She can be like Mom.
"And what's wrong with now?"
"I…" she starts to say but then stops herself willfully, looks at you with so much love in her eyes and takes a deep breath. "No, I told you to fight your demons. I ought to fight mine. I…I couldn't talk to you. I didn't even want to talk to you now. I knew that you were hurting and that something was wrong but I didn't say anything about it, not when you first came and not when you were touching your picture, looking so lost."
"I thought I fooled you!"
"I fooled myself. I talked myself into thinking that everything was alright even when my heart knew that it wasn't." Then she broke down. "I can't lose you again, Chris. I can't!"
You cannot promise her that you will not leave, that she will not lose you or that you would never die. You can't tell her anything and can't do anything but watch her cry, helpless, so opposite from what she presented in the first day, so different from your mom who never broke down and always fought for what she believed in. However, you cannot feel disgusted with her and her weakness. There is something warm in your eyes- tears.
You do not want to lose her all over again, too.
"Don't leave me, Chris." She sobs and touches your arm as if to draw in comfort but you cannot feel her gentle touch or the cool of her fingers, you cannot feel anything. All you hear are her words.
"Don't leave me, Chris."
"Don't leave me, Chris."
Why are they echoing?
You are sitting in a dark room. There is only a bed, a closet, and a tiny window that does not let any light get in. Only shadows of light, if such things exists.
Only. here they do. Everything is darker here.
"Don't leave me, Chris!" There is another person in the room. A woman. Her face is being hidden by the darkness but you could never mistake the voice.
Bianca.
What is she doing here?
Where is here?
"Why? So you can tell my brother that you've achieved your mission?" you hear yourself shout, your voice hard and dry as it never was with her. You wonder what is going on here. Why are you fighting her? Why do you hate her, and how can you even think of hating her? She's she. She is everything that is good in the world; she is everything that is good in you. How can you talk to her like that?
"No!" She sounds desperate and you want to take your hand and touch her face, feel that its real, but you cannot. Your hand is staying next to your body, clutched into a fist and vibrating with anger. "You know I'd never do that! You know me!"
"I thought I knew you," you say and hate yourself for these words so much. You were given a second chance. How dare you mess that up!
"You still do. I'm still the same person." She is begging. You have never heard her beg before.
"You work for my brother! You're an assassin! How can I ever trust you?" You shout so loud that the echo from the walls is tripling every noise, making everything worse. This is the other Chris; you suddenly recall that he had an evil brother. And Bianca worked for him?
"I may work for your brother but I am not your brother. I didn't make the mistake of associating with the two of you. I can see there's something in you that he will never have. I love you, Chris. And I know you love me. Tell me you love me. Please."
She is needy, pathetic and reduced to a quivering pile of waste. But you love her. You prepare to tell her that but something entirely different leaves your mouth.
"Our love was a lie, Bianca. You were a lie."
"No. You don't believe that."
"I just don't believe in you."
She looks at you and there is something hard in her eyes. Something behind all that hurt, need and passion, hiding beneath all the emotions that defined her as herself. For the first time, there is anger. Maybe at you, him, maybe herself for falling in love or being an assassin in the first place. Maybe at fate.
It does not matter.You know what is going to happen.
"Please leave," you say and your voice islike a machine, without a trace of feeling. You want to bash your head into the wall until you realize reason. This woman would have given up everything to be with you. This is the kind of love that does not come along every day; this is the stuff of legends.
He just gave up on that.
The fool.
She leaves and takes all the residues of light with her, to the outside. Maybe there, there will be someone who will appreciate her more.
"Are you ok?" Mom's eyes are looking at yours worryingly, her brows knitting together trying to solve what just happened.
"Yeah." You reassure her wishing she would stop asking you that. "I just had a flashback from my other life."
"And…?"
"It was about Bianca." You do not even try to hide the quiver in your voice. You loved her,and that is the one thing you cannot lie about. That you will never lie about. Not as long as you're alive. "He… I… figured out that she was an assassin and left her. I was so cruel, Mom. I saw her cry and beg and I didn't even care. I just hated her so much. How I could hate her?"
"You didn't hate her, honey. In the end you came back together."
"Then I don't deserve her. Not after this. Never after this," you say knowing you were never worthy of her in the first place and the reason you can never have her in whatever universe is because the relationship between the two of you was destined to live only on borrowed time. and her being with you had made her life shorter.
"Don't be so harsh on yourself," she pleads and in a sudden insight, you understand that she is right. You did not live the same life the other you had. You were the evil brother back then; you did not know how to be the servant. Maybe you would have acted the same. Maybe you wouldn't have. Maybe she did things you could not forgive. The point is that you cannot judge yourself by something you did not do. You are reliving his nightmare, his reality, and if he wronged it was his mistake to make.
He was not perfect. He was good, but not perfect. That idea boggles your mind yet it does not sound as far fetched as you thought it would. Maybe mistakes are not the legacy of evil alone. Maybe the balance is stayed by exactly that- that either side does not know, does not care, that the other one laments for his mistakes, too.
Maybe both sides are in the same boat, forever trying to swim across the river that the gods have created. Perhaps the gods are afraid that one day both sides will realize that they are being manipulated to fight in order to feed the gods' hunger for war, and they will stop. They will fight the gods instead.
And because both good and evil will join together- this time they'll win.