"No. This is what we hoped it would be. This is what we were trying to preserve for our future. Do you remember?"
Neurotic
Disclaimer: Charmed does not belong to me.
Summary: His name is not Chris Perry. It's Christopher. Christopher Halliwell.
Chapter the Thirty-seventh
"Wound"
"Phoebe's… body?"
Darryl swallowed hard, and nodded. "I'm sorry to be the one to give you this news," he said, his voice tight. He still stood on the doorstep, as if stepping into the house would poison him. His gaze on Piper, it took him a moment to register movement behind them, and he looked up in shock to see Cole and Paul there. "Uh—"
"Yes, that's Cole," Piper said distractedly, her face almost white. Chris moved protectively to put her arms against her. "We had to, uh, resurrect him to get Paige out of the book… How did- Uh-"
"He wouldn't do this." Paul's voice carried out brazenly, and a harsh note of desperation edged it. He stalked closer to Chris, holding "He needs Aunt Phoebe alive, right?"
Chris frowned, as if trying to remember something. Piper looked up at him, a dying hope painfully bright in her eyes. "Yes. Yes he does. And no one else could have got to her while she was in Wyatt's custody."
"Wait, how can you be sure?" Cole demanded. "You've already changed the timeline, maybe what you've messed around with means he doesn't need her any more."
Chris nodded, looking down at the ground and thinking hard. "Unfortunately, that's true." He exhaled, and then looked up. "Paul, can you go with Darryl, check the body and report back if it is her?"
"Why me? You're so much better than-"
"Because Wyatt knows mom couldn't run out there and check, not in her state, and he'd be expecting both of us to run and check. We need someone with powers here to protect mom," Chris said reasonably.
"Fine," Paul ground out. "I'll go. Cole, do you-"
"Please," Cole said, with a low rough voice. He looked awful, like he was about to keep over and die, and no one blamed him. Everyone else was feeling that selfsame sinking feeling, what if she's really dead?
"Wait, what if Wyatt's put this as a trap?" Piper demanded, her hands on her hips. "What if Wyatt is waiting for you?"
"Then I'll orb away," Paul said impatiently. "Hello, Whitelighter here."
Darryl was looking between them with a slightly crazed look on his face. "Uh, who are you?" He asked, looking at Paul. He edged a slightly worried look at Chris as well. "And mom?"
"Uh-uh, you stay away, you don't get to know," Piper said, a little snappishly. Darryl pulled a slightly remorseful face, but he tensed.
"Come on," Paul said. "Sooner we go, the sooner we can know if it's Phoebe."
"Heh," Chris remarked suddenly, "it's a pity you're not really Phoebe's kid, and then we could tell whether she was alive or not."
A dark looked flashed across Paul's face, and an edgy look passed between Paul and Cole. Chris' hackles rose at that look; it was the second time he'd seen Paul look like that, and the other time was with Pippa… What was he missing?
"I think you of all people would understand that I would want Melinda here instead of myself more than anyone," Paul said, with a quiet sort of dignity that fell into the silence. With a dark, brooding look on his face, Paul swept past Darryl, with a sharp, "Coming?" directed at Cole and Darryl.
Cole shrugged at Piper and Chris. "Someone will need to check the book. Paige had a crazy idea to go after the gangsters – you need to persuade her to go after Eddie instead. Just… write in little… clues."
Chris nodded. "Okay."
The door clattered shut loudly, and it rang in the ominous silence that followed like the clank of a prison gate.
"She- she's not dead, right?" Piper's voice was remarkably steady, but her eyes were already awash with despair and loathing and worry.
Chris moved closer to her, gathering her up and shepherding her tenderly to one of the armchairs, making her sit down. She sat down with no resistance, and when she turned her face back to him, it was grey, as if he touched her, her skin would peel away from her face and she would dissolve into nothing under his touch…
He pulled away, but stayed crouched by her feet, looking up at her. "She'll be okay," Chris promised. "For now, we can't let this disruption stop us."
Piper nodded slowly, as if something was pulling her head with strings from above.
She won't break. The thought flashed through Chris' mind, and as he stood up to fetch the book, he touched her cheek softly. The contact seemed to break through Piper's sudden stupor, and she looked at him gratefully, tears in her eyes.
Chris forgot about everything in that instant. He forgot about the pressing deadline, Darryl's grim words to them, the fact they only had so many days left before Wyatt was turned evil and destroyed all that was good and pure and innocent… Instead he was his mom's little boy again, and his mom was upset, and he had to stop her from being sad.
He fell on his knees to the ground, and gathered her up again, pulling her cheek against his. Her tears were wet and warmed his cooler face, and he could feel her heartbeat through him. For just that little while, she was his mom, he was her baby, and they were united in their grief.
"Nnnnggghh, who made the light so bright?"
Stretching, and feeling more deliciously relaxed than she had in a long time, Paige squinted until she got her eyesight back. She blinked, wondering why nothing had colour in the small room, and then remembered with a sigh that they were still inside the book…
A soft chuckle from beside her made her turn, and she twisted to see Dan looking at her with a softly pleased expression on his face. She propped herself up on the pillow with one elbow, and smiled slowly back at him.
"I can't turn the sun down," Dan solemnly informed her. He reached out his hand to push her hair away from her forehead. It had been a long time since anyone had been so gentle with Paige, and she shivered from the attention. Shivered in a definitely good way.
"I don't have any regrets," Paige said, and even though it was an automatic response on her part she was warmly surprised to find out she meant it.
"Me neither." He leant closer, brushed his lips over hers, and she kissed him back hungrily. Her eyes slid shut of their own accord, and she put one hand on his hip, pulling him closer. The kiss was less desperate than the night before, but no less charged with desire, and it took a loud knock at the door to snap them apart.
Paige wrinkled her nose, and Dan climbed out. She admired the view before he slid on the robe and answered the door. Uninhibited by her current state of dress, or lack therefore, she held the duvet to her chest and peered around the corner to see the clerk wheel in a small trolley, resplendent with a large breakfast.
The clerk tipped a wink at her. "Good morning, Mrs. Gordon," he said with a cheery smile and wink in her direction. Paige plastered on a large fake smile until the clerk left them alone. Dan looked faintly amused as he closed the door and headed back over to the bed, sitting down on the edge.
He uncovered the breakfast and pouted a little.
"What is it?" Paige sat up straighter, peering over his shoulder.
"It's a proper cooked breakfast," Dan said, leaning back so she could see, "but it's grey."
Paige snickered a little. "I'm hungry and I don't care. Pass it over."
Still looking a little uncomfortable with the lack of colour in the food, Dan passed her a plate and was about to get one for himself when Paige slid her arms around him and loosened his robe. He looked at her quizzically.
"So we're equally dressed," she explained, with a smirk. "I'm not eating breakfast naked if you're not, and I can't be bothered to get up and get my robe."
"I see." Dan shrugged off the robe the rest of the way, with an amused side-glance at Paige. He poked his fork dubiously into what looked like scrambled eggs and tasted it. "Well, it tastes like eggs," he said, sounding a lot more relieved.
Paige rolled her eyes and dug into the breakfast hungrily. When they'd finished, Paige pulled on her wrinkled clothes again with a look of distaste. As she finger-combed her hair, she looked over at Dan as he shrugged on his jacket and mournfully held out his bow-tie again. Rolling her eyes, she helped him put it on, snatching a couple of kisses this time around.
"I am definitely having a shower as soon as I get back," Paige decided as she stepped back.
Dan just nodded.
They hurried out of the hotel as fast as they could, with the clerk smirking broadly at them as they left, and stepped out into a clear white sky shining down at them. It was warm, which Paige appreciated, as her clothes were still a little damp.
"Wait," Dan called as they hit the sidewalk and Paige determinedly started to stalk in one direction. "Where are you going?"
"To the gangsters, like we discussed," Paige called back, upping her pace and running.
"Paige!" When he got no response, Dan started to run after her. "You pig-headed, stubborn, wi-" His muttering under his breath stopped as he saw a vortex starting to gather in the sky. That can't be good! At the rate Paige was going, she was going to run straight underneath it!
Taking advantage of his more athletic build, Dan sped up, thundering down the street. He was vaguely aware of something dark thundering down towards her, and he put in a last desperate burst of energy to barrel into her and smack her bodily out of the way.
They tumbled in a heap to the sidewalk, and Dan turned back in astonishment to see a smashed piano in a million pieces behind them. Disjointed notes hung awkwardly in the air, and he turned back to Paige with a look of shock on his face.
"We've gotta stop meeting like this," Paige quipped.
Grumbling, Dan got to his feet and helped her up. "I take back what I said earlier. You have seen too much film noir for your own good."
Paige settled for sticking her tongue out. "But… why would a piano want to kill me?"
"I think it was a sign," Dan said, looking awkwardly down at the debris. If I'd be one second too late…
"A sign?" Paige pursed her lips. "Yeah, this smacks of Piper."
"Well, it seems to me this is a sign saying you were going the wrong way," Dan said, trying not to gloat. "Seems to me your sisters are saying it would be a path that leads to death."
"Yeah, yeah," Paige growled, "gloating isn't good for your complexion."
"So we're going to get Eddie?"
Paige sighed, and nodded in agreement.
"I don't want to look." Paul squinted his eyes and edged closer to the thin metal platform where the body lay, covered in a cloth. Darryl was shooting Paul an "I told you so" look, and even Cole was feeling edgy. What if it's-
His throat closed up, not allowing himself to finish that thought.
"I don't think any of us want to look," Cole said, a little unsteadily.
"She can't be dead," Paul said, his voice wavering horribly. "If Phoebe dies, then Mel won't be born, and I- I can't-"
Cole was surprised to see the young Whitelighter shudder, as if someone had walked straight through him, and from the tense look on Paul's face, it looked as if he was trying to stop himself from crying.
Darryl got their first. Perhaps it was because of his own innate instincts as a father, but he seemed to know just what to do; putting an arm around Paul and soothingly rubbing his back as he shook. Paul seemed to be having difficulty breathing for a moment, until he pulled away, his eyes and cheeks reddened.
"I'm sorry," Paul managed, in a very small voice.
"Melinda is Phoebe's child?" Cole said, his voice deep as he moved closer to Paul, ignoring the still body that lay ominously on the slab.
"Was." Paul looked as if he was about to break down. "She and I were… close."
"Close? As cousins-close, or-?"
Paul looked sharply away, and anguish drew his features in tightly. His gaze fell to the body, and when his answer came as a whisper – "more" – it felt almost as if he'd dreamt it.
"I see." Cole's voice was curiously absent, as if there was someone in his body but it wasn't him.
"It wasn't- we weren't-" Paul struggled to explain himself. "Well, we were, but it was-"
"Relax," Cole said, soothingly. "Cousins, it's- It's not incest, right?"
"No," Darryl said, but he sounded even more perplexed than he had when they'd first started to talk back at the manor. Cole and Paul had been mute with horror on the way there, and now this whole conversation had gone completely over his head.
"Wyatt still thought it was wrong," Paul said, almost professionally detached. He moved as if not on his own volition, to lift back the sheet covering the body. Cole stepped backwards in shock, and his legs wouldn't support him, for Cole had seen this before; a thousand, million times in his dreams, and a couple of heart-wrenching moments in reality too.
Phoebe's body lay there, cold and motionless and ethereal and dead.
Paul clinically started checking different parts of her body. A note of discordance struck Cole, for her body was still limp. If her body was discovered hours before, and she was definitely alive earlier this day, then shouldn't rigor mortis have begun to set in? Cole was no expert on dead bodies, but this didn't seem right, and he let this glimmer of hope give him strength to stand.
"Chris was the only one who supported us," Paul said, still speaking as he continued the strange examination, lifting up small parts of her clothing, checking each finger pad, each knuckle depression. "Even though it only began a few months before I died, he would send me letters from the asylum, and I would write him back. Mel wrote him too. He was like our therapist, even though he was the one locked up in the crazy zoo."
Cole didn't understand why Paul was telling him this, except maybe for catharsis, until he realised that Paul was using it to distract himself from the horror of potentially examining his aunt's corpse.
"Mel and I got even closer when I thought Chris had abandoned me for good," Paul said, moving down to Phoebe's feet and knee pits. "Chris went to live with Victor, and Mel changed then. I guess that's when Wyatt killed her and replaced her. He was always doing that. When he killed Piper, he replaced her with a clone, and it was almost like her but not. Sort of like a robotic Piper. So when Chris tried to tell the police that Wyatt had murdered Piper and me- and when there was us, walking around the house – I suppose that was what finally got him committed for good." Paul got to his knees to look between each toe. "I guess he thought I was a clone too, when I was so cold to him after the event, but he must have thought I was dead, too." A note of surprise was in that voice, from this crisp, analytical Paul. "And I think I knew Mel was a clone when Chris lived with grandpa, but I still-" A hitch in his voice. "I still loved her. I still-"
And Paul completely broke down, his hand slipping down one of the iron bars of the metal slab Phoebe's body was lying on, and he sobbed into the back of his hands. This time it was Cole who dropped down, and enveloped Paul in his arms. Paul suddenly seemed so small and vulnerable there, and Cole held him until he'd calmed down.
Paul pulled away, eventually, but stayed there on the ground, his legs tucked beneath him, his sallow face flushed and unsure.
Cole didn't want to disturb the lad after his outburst, but he had to know.
"Paul?" When Paul just continued to stare deadly at a random point on Cole's leg, Cole tried gently again. "Paul?"
"Hm?"
"Is it… is it Phoebe, or a clone?"
Paul opened his mouth to answer, but it never came, as something smashed inwards through the wall. A brutal, high-pitched laughing filled the air. Cole only had time to let out a startled shout before the wall caved in on them, everything seemed suddenly submerged in darkness, and he remembered nothing more.
T-16
