"But even so, I mean, it can't be good for him. Even if he can handle the demons, he must sense the tension which means at the very best we end up with a neurotic infant."


Neurotic


Disclaimer: Charmed does not belong to me. (brain melts)

Summary: His name is not Chris Perry. It's Christopher. Christopher Halliwell.


Chapter the Thirtieth

"Resurrection"


"PAUL!"

Chris managed to rip himself out of Leo's grasp, but his legs gave out beneath him and he crumbled onto his knees, his fingers clutching the grass as he looked up at Wyatt.

Wyatt just laughed, and waved his hand. The whirlmire started to contract, spitting out sparks of black, spinning inwards and collapsing on itself.

"This is what happens when family betrays me," Wyatt said coolly, his voice dancing on the light breeze, his words sinking in their stomachs. Piper clutched onto Leo in disbelief. Surely this cold being could not- could not- could never be- Please never be. "You should have known this lesson well, though, Chris. Perhaps another lesson-"

But then something struck Wyatt, making him stumble slightly, and he turned wide eyes upon what must have hit him, but he saw nothing. He looked at Chris, who was just as bewildered as he. Chris couldn't muster the strength to even move.

Wyatt looked at his hand in disbelief, and that was when Chris realised that it was Excalibur, twitching in his hand, moving Wyatt… But it's never done that before.

Then there was a blinding flash that illuminated the area, throwing tree silhouettes upon the ground like stretching hands, reaching out to strangle them, and Chris looked up into the source of the blinding light, caught orb lights, and was confused.

By the time the light came away, they saw Excalibur fly out of Wyatt's hand, being caught by a hand. A familiar hand.

"Paul?"

Chris forced the name out of his throat, raw from his shouting from before.

It was Paul. Standing there as if he hadn't even been stabbed. The clone? But no, that's not possible, I stopped that… Right? Chris didn't understand. He wanted so desperately to understand.

Paul took a cool look at the length of the metal in his hand. "You have to love the prophecy about this thing. It says it's destined for the son of a Charmed one." His eyes hardened like flint as he looked coolly at Wyatt. He smiled, a delicious irony sliding onto his face. "But it doesn't say which one."

He flung his hand forward, and Excalibur sliced through the air, barely missing Wyatt before returning to Paul's hand. Paul gazed upon the slightly unsure Wyatt, cool and aloof with the stance of a king. Unperturbed and unmovable.

"How-" Wyatt blurted. It had been so long since Chris had seen his older brother unravelled so much, and it just added to the surreality of the events but she's gone, she's gone, she's not coming back, but Paul came back, maybe, maybe-

"That day eight ago you killed me." Paul stared instead at the cool blade, rather than at the look on Wyatt's face.

"But-"

"You didn't expect me to survive," Paul said. "My survival only forced you to change your plans. As for how I survived…" Paul stalked casually over to where Chris knelt in the grass. He bent down and scanned Chris' face, and Chris looked blankly back at him, incomprehensible. He took Chris' hand in his spare one, and Chris looked slowly down at it. It was grazed somehow, blood dripping onto the grass below. Chris blinked very slowly, he hadn't even noticed, it must have happened when he was struggling in Leo's grasp.

Paul let go of Chris' hand, but it hovered in the air as if Chris was unsure of how to move after the impact of the last ten minutes. Paul, exhaling sadly, passed his hand over the top of the graze. A golden light splashed down on it, healing the graze, knitting the skin together.

"You're a Whitelighter." Chris' voice was steadier than he thought it should be. Years of practising composure had given him an innate steadiness in even the weirdest situations.

Paul nodded, and cast a look up at Wyatt. He locked gazes with him. "Yes," he said, slightly smugly, "I am."

"It makes no difference," Wyatt said, tossing his head a little. "This was just a warning, anyway."

"You murder your own mother and it's a warning," Paul said mockingly. "Gee, I'd hate what to see what a real message from you would be."

Wyatt smiled slowly. Chris felt like someone had just poured ice down his spine when he saw that smile. He shivered, and remembered a thousand things that choked him up, a thousand things that had happened while Wyatt smiled that smile.

"Oh, you will, Paul. You will." Wyatt shimmered away without any warning, the last remnants of the whirlmire disappearing into vapour with him.

Apparently that was all the bravado Paul could muster, for he started to tremble and he collapsed to his knees, staring at the lake in disbelief. The surface that was an instance entrance to death mere minutes beforehand was an unbroken mirrored surface.

"She's gone." Paul's voice was not steady like Chris'. It was anguished and reedy, and it cracked awkwardly part of the way through.

"No, no, no. No, she's not. It's not- she can't- I mean she came back." Chris staggered to his feet, made it a few steps forward, and fell again. It was if all the life had drained from his limbs. He staggered up again, determined. His eyes surveyed the surface of the lake. Then he orbed.

All three of them looked around in consternation, until orb lights appeared again over the surface of the lake, and a figure fell into the water.

"Chris?"

Chris splashed to the surface, took a deep breath, and dived. There was a lot of disturbance as he emerged again before submerging. The smooth surface of the lake dissolved into ripples. He dived again, and again, and Paul's eyes widened as he realised what he was doing.

"He's looking for her," Paul said, one hand rising involuntarily to his mouth. "He's-"

Leo looked at him heavily, and then walked to the edge of the water, dodging the age-changing field, as Chris emerged again, coughing and spluttering a little. "Chris."

Chris looked at him hollowly, his hair plastered to his head and cheeks, and he sneezed. "She was right here." He span in a desperate circle, water splashing through his hands. He suddenly looked very small and very alone. "She was- She was-"

Leo looked at him in heavy sympathy, and lowered himself into the water. He gathered Chris into his arms, to soothe him. "Let's get you home," he said, locking gazes with a worried Piper as she looked down at them. "Paul, you can handle Piper, right?"


"You're being double-crossed, you ignorant freaks! Get out of the car! Get OUT OF THE CAR!"

When one has been in a tense, horrid situation involving the death of another, often humour can be a way to salve that tension, and retract the horror of the events a little, if only for a few moments.

Hearing Cole yell at the book within which Paige and Dan were currently trapped was enough to salve a little of the tension that had built up seeing Pippa's horrendous death. Chris burst out laughing, hiding his dripping head on Leo's shoulder, Piper sniggered, and Paul leant on Excalibur like it was a walking stick.

"You're one of those people that yell at quiz show contestants, aren't you?" Piper asked wryly.

Cole flushed. "Sorry. But your sister is a pig-ignorant little freak, and that dunderhead she's with is just as stupid. I made the tyre blow out on their car to warn them they were heading into a trap, and what do they do? Hang around with the double crossing freak!" He fumed indignantly, and then looked at the four who had orbed in. His face suddenly changed from indignant to brittle, brisk, business-like. "What happened?" His voice was soft, low.

The mood of the four instantly changed.

"I'll go set Excalibur back in the stone," Paul muttered, heading up the stairs.

Piper sighed, feeling a little sick seeing your own death does that to you. She looked at Leo and Chris. "You two might want to go get dried up," she said, waving them vaguely in the direction of the stairs. "Your clothes are still in my closet," she added to Leo, casting a downwards look at the floor. That look spoke volumes to Leo, and, incredibly touched, he tugged on Chris' arm.

"Come on, buddy," Leo murmured, and he too most of Chris' weight on himself as they walked up the stairs to Piper's bedroom.

Piper watched them go, and their closeness sparked something in her. Memories flooded through her, as if there was a fragment of a truth she could just pick up on and then everything would be clear. She turned back to Cole, who was looking at her worriedly. Sighing, she moved over the table and gingerly sat down in a chair.

"Ma?" Wyatt gurgled happily up at her from his playpen, down by the table, and she sighed and lifted her hand down to play with his hair. Her fingers tousled his soft, golden locks.

"Where do we go so wrong with you, hmm?" She longed to pick him up, but remembered Chris' soft words of before, and knew it might not be a good idea for the sake of her unborn child. Sighing, she bent down, and leant her cheek against his. He's capable of destroying me, she thought, but no self-survival instinct kicked in. I could never kill him to save myself.

"What happened?" Cole said, breaking Piper out of her spiralling thoughts, and she blinked up at him sadly. "I thought five of you left," he added, his voice sounding uncertain.

Piper nodded heavily, and started to relate the tale of what had befallen them.


"This shirt smells of her."

Leo looked up as Chris came back into the bedroom, looking a lot smaller in the large plaid shirt he was swamped in. Chris was a lot leaner than Leo, but would not have fitted into any of Piper's normal clothes, and had pulled a face when Leo had offered him a large maternity t-shirt of Piper's.

"I guess it's because she's kept them in her closet," Leo said. He sat on the edge of the bed, and awkwardly patted the cover, wanting Chris to join him, to talk. Surprisingly, Chris moved, as if thinking of things to do by himself were too hard. Chris sank onto the very edge of the bed, and stared forwards into space.

"Yeah, that makes sense," he said absently.

"At least she got some time with you and Paul," Leo said softly, looking at Chris' face and hating the blank slate. No emotion was playing on Chris' face at all.

"Yeah," Chris said, a sarcasm filtering through his voice. He edged a look at Leo, who was looking confused. "I had an argument with her," he said, in a very small voice. "Just before she was taken." His gaze fell to the floor, to his bare feet. He waggled them against the carpet slowly, and then fell still.

"I'm sure she knew you didn't mean anything bad," Leo said, trying to comfort his son.

Chris jerked a look at him. "How? How can you know for sure?" He shook his wet hair a little, and wished he'd brought the towel in with him.

"Because that's who she is," Leo said, his voice warm but tense with an open longing for what he no longer had. He thought of her soft smile, her glowing skin, the curve where her neck met her shoulder, and missed her. Seeing Pippa, die, like that… He should have stopped it! And he damn well would stop it from happening to his Piper…

"I just- I was so awful. I said-" He paused, awkwardly. "I said she wasn't my mother. I said she never had been."

Leo looked at him in a saddened understanding. He couldn't form what he wanted to say in words, and he hoped he could communicate it to Chris in another way. Their gazes locked, and Chris' sea-green eyes were awash with deeper water, that spilled onto his cheeks and stained them.

"And she was right here, I could have told her, could have told her I loved her, that I missed her, and I didn't, I couldn't, I-" And Chris brought both his hands to his mouth, and he trembled, and Leo shuffled forwards and followed his instincts, bringing Chris to him in a hug.

Tears were blinding his own vision, and he folded his fingers in the shirt on Chris' back. Piper's fragrance reached his nose, and he realised Chris was right – the shirt did smell of her.

Chris pulled back a little, his cheeks red, his eyes sparkling with the most vivid shade of green that Leo thought had ever seen. Leo raised his hand to wipe away Chris' tears, and his hand lingered to push hair away from Chris' face.

"She knew you loved her," Leo said, his voice trembling. "She knew it."

"Yeah," Chris said, his voice still a little doubtful. "Thanks, dad."

Leo smiled blindingly at the epithet, and Chris blushed a little when he realised what he'd said.

"Dad?"

Chris froze as he recognised the voice, and Leo's stomach churned a little. Oh, god… Chris twisted, looking up at Piper with an anguished look, one that shimmered to apologetic. Leo moved off the bed, and slowly guided Piper to sit there. She looked between them, her eyes widened.

After looking beseechingly at Leo for help, Chris turned to Piper and felt a wary strength fill him when Leo put a hand on his shoulder. He reached forward and took Piper's hand between his own.

With strength, he looked up at her. Tears were still falling, but he couldn't stop them, and it didn't seem to be of any consequence, compared to this.

He looked at his mother with a look of such love and adoration that Piper felt her heart resonate with his quiet, truthful words, as if she'd heard those words before, as if she'd known the truth her whole life.

"My name's not Chris Perry" Chris said, as if it was the hardest thing he'd ever had to say. "It's Christopher." He paused, almost reluctantly. "Christopher Halliwell."


T - 23