Disclaimer: I don't own Charmed… yet.

André: team member of FU1

Duncan: vampire, and team member of FU1

Joden: team member of FU1 and Paris' boyfriend

Paris: Chris' best friend and Joden's girlfriend (also on Fu1)

"JESSICA!"

Chris stumbled backwards into the wall of the tunnel, green eyes as round as saucers and glittering. There was still that indescribable expression on his face, in his eyes, buried there immutably.

Piper gasped sharply and fell to the ground as Joden screamed Jessica's name, tears streaming down both their faces. Piper's eyes closed.

"No," Chris whispered, knees buckling, eyes never leaving Piper's prostrate form. Something significant was taking place behind the closed doors of his eyes, but what ever it was it was tied to the implacable expression. "Please, no," he breathed, unaware of the others that were coming out of the spell. Piper stirred, moaning as her body ached all over, but Chris didn't seem to be really looking at her. He continued to stare at the spot she had fallen, expressions fleeting across his face in numbers. At length, as the company rubbed their temples as if from hangovers, Chris closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. His mind seemed to have registered the fact that he wasn't with his sister anymore, that he was in the company of ones who didn't even know his last name seven years later. He didn't have a choice but to bury and suppress the renewed pain.

"Chris," began André timidly, wiping the stray tears away, "what was that? Who was Jessie?"

The boy sighed, slowly opening his eyes and accepting Paris' hand up. Looking anywhere but at his companions' faces, he responded shakily, "She… was my sister."

"Was?" repeated Joden quietly, eyes on the ground.

"Yeah… she died that day. I… I think the spell meant that when it said 'emotional confrontation'. It must have done something to… to make you all repeat a piece of our… our last conversation…" Chris responded, his voice soft and forced. It was clear to everyone present he didn't want to be here right now.

Paris, sensing where this conversation was going, quickly intervened. "Um… why don't you go ahead? Chris and I will catch up in a minute."

The rest of FU1 and others, seeing no excuse they could rationally make to stay, obeyed humbly. They could all still feel the intense emotions that came with the spell surging through them as shadows of the real things. They knew the one who had really been there would need more than a minute to collect himself before he could even look them in the eyes, let alone talk to them about it.

Phoebe's last glimpse of Paris and Chris, before they turned the corner, was of the two sitting cross-legged in front of each other. They weren't talking. They were just there, sharing a single unwavering look, communicating in a way no one else would ever be able to understand. Communicating in a way that put everything else beautiful and meaningful to shame. Phoebe sighed, heart aching for reasons beyond her perception.

Joden and Leo were talking about Star Wars before the two finally caught up with them some twenty minutes later. Phoebe got the feeling Chris and Paris had started after them after only a few minutes, still keeping a distance as to not be overheard when they finally did begin speaking. The pair rejoined them in remarkably better spirits, and didn't have trouble joining in the ever changing conversations. Whatever Paris had told Chris seemed to have done the trick.

After a half hour of nothing unusual, the walls abruptly stopped on either side of them, opening out into a wide cavern. Intrigued, the company entered and peered around. On the walls were what looked like cave drawings and more ancient runes. In the center of the room was a raised stone table with unidentifiable objects cast about it. There was no exit leading out of the cavern.

"Think we have to solve a puzzle or something like in the movies?" Joden asked, eyes twinkling mischievously as they mulled around the room. The others chorused soft agreements, each looking into something separate as they tried to figure out what exactly the puzzle might be.

"Hey Starlighter, come take a look at this," Paris called distractedly from the table. Chris glanced up and came over to where she was and quickly deciphered the runes beside her.

"Olympian," he commented thoughtfully. "Think it means--?"

But Joden interrupted with a laugh, "Wait-- did she just call you Starlighter?"

The others in the room looked up, attention just as piqued. Paris and Chris looked stunned, both momentarily opening their mouths and closing them again with slight laughs, at a loss for what to say. At last, Chris managed to piece together, "It was… a nickname I had throughout school. And Paris… um, went to school with me."

"Okay, but how did a nickname like that start?" asked Duncan, finding all of this extremely amusing.

Chris and Paris shared another lost, blushing look.. Haltingly, Chris said by way of explanation, "I… um… used to have a problem with running away… at night. And people at school didn't find it hard to realize why I had an ankle bracelet, so they always teased me about it."

"An ankle bracelet?" snorted Paige disbelievingly. "You ran away so often they put you under house arrest?"

Chris glared at her, crossing his arms. "Oh, laugh it up. You would have too if you had to be raised in that hellhole."

That shut her up. Then she remembered something. "You said, or Jessica rather, that Paige wouldn't help you. Did you mean… Paige Matthews? The Charmed One?"

Chris gazed at her, and for a moment fear struck Paige's heart. In that moment it looked as though he could see her through the glamour. But it only lasted a moment before he sighed and looked away. "Yeah, Paige Matthews."

Paige was more than a little confused. "But… I know her. She wouldn't ever send you back to your parents, especially if you said they were hurting you."

Again, Chris' eyes seemed to be able to see straight through her mask, but he looked back to the runes on the table just as quickly as he had previously. "She did."

"But why?" Paige pressed. She just couldn't leave it alone. She knew she wouldn't send abused children back to their abusers. She knew it. All they had to do was say the word and she would have had their parents arrested.

Chris didn't even look up this time. He was examining something like a clay pot with symbols carved all around its edges. "She didn't believe me. My parents weren't exactly known for being anything but good and perfect. She apologized though. At Jessie's funeral. She said she was sorry my sister was dead and sorry she hadn't believed me." The sardonic tone wasn't unnoticed.

Phoebe was giving Paige a look that said 'drop it'. But she still couldn't. Being a social worker had mattered to her, and she couldn't believe she would screw up that bad. "So did she help you after that?"

"What does it matter?" Chris snapped, clearly annoyed by the prying. Paige gave him a look that showed she needed to know, momentarily startling the boy. Not having the heart to let her down, Chris sighed and set the pot back on the table and picked up a bowl. "Not really. She tried, and sent me to several other foster families, but it never worked out. The first one was a demonic couple just after my power, the second were psychopaths intent on murdering me, and the third completely lost it when they realized they had agreed to foster a wiccan freak. Did anybody else hear that?"

"Hear what?" asked Joden, looking around warily. His hand went to his belt, where several guns were strapped expertly.

Chris held up his hand in the 'shut up' motion. He and Paris became completely silent, both seemingly hearing, feeling, or seeing things beyond the others' range of perception.

"The atmosphere shifted," Paris murmured, still concentrating. "I'm reading evil all over the place. It feels like… oh no, Green Pins!"

"What are Green Pins?" asked Leo, voicing what the Charmed Ones were thinking. The team, who had begun looking for another exit hastily, stopped and stared at them.

"You're not from around here, are you?" André said with a trace of a smile. When the others shook their heads, she replied, "Green Pins are demons, most upper level, all hand picked by the Source himself to be in the 'specific purpose' group. There are other groups, like Blue Pins who are spies, Yellow Pins are first line defense, Brown Pins are general offence, and so forth. The Green Pins are the assassins sent after FU members. Each one has a specific member they fight because they have some power that can get past our own and kill us."

The ones from the past nodded in understanding, all wondering vaguely if there were any Green Pins sent to kill them. Chris, already on another page, asked Paris, "Can you Read anything in this room with a particular air of mystery or haughtiness? I'm not getting anything distinct."

Paris considered, then pointed to a wall. The two shared a look that no other could interpret, then Chris walked over to the wall and, taking a breath, waved his hand over it. Symbols appeared in a scarlet glow of light from one end all the way to the other. He cocked his head to the side. "Something we fear. This space is…" he paused, considering the set in front of him. It seemed to be one he wasn't familiar with. "This is… failure, I think. Abstract and of low esteem. That one is… also abstract… but I think it's loss. That one is… something that hasn't happened yet. The future, maybe? The one over there is… love or binding ties of love, something along in there. And that last one over there on the other side of future is…" He hesitated. "That one is… either the past, or past memories."

The troupe assembled at their honest fears. Paige and Joden stood in front of failure. Piper and André in front of loss. Phoebe and Duncan stood before love ties, and Leo, after debating, went to stand by Piper in loss. Paris and Chris shared yet another look, and after a moment the two smiled. As one, Paris stood in front of future and Chris stood in front of past.

The wall glowed and more runes appeared. Chris studied them for a moment before reading with a wry smile. "The fears of many these walls cover, but one is different. How do you fear something that is already over?"

"I think it's talking to you, Chris," Joden whispered loudly behind his hand, making Paris and Chris both laugh.

"How do I fear something that's already over…?" Chris pondered thoughtfully, eyes lost in contemplation. "I don't know… I'm afraid of the past's power to repeat itself, I suppose."

The stone wall in front of them shook, before grating backwards, then sideways out of their path. Sighing with relief, the team led the way out of the vast room, anxious to put as much space between them and the Green Pins as they could. The Charmed ones and Leo got the hint and followed quickly.

"Okay, Chris!" Bianca snapped, aggravated. "You can freakin' stop now!"

She quickly ducked as a lasso of fire ricocheted off the bubble and flew back at her. Chris clasped his hand into a fist, extinguishing it before it could burn her. She got back to her feet, eyes almost literally flaming.

Chris sighed, thinking back on his current situation. He couldn't help but brood over the fact that he was trapped in a place outside of time itself with his ex-frigging-fiancée, who was intent on making him crack by watching the Charmed Ones and Leo slowly uncover his many secrets. And even though he now knew Bianca didn't want to hurt him, it didn't change the fact that she still was going to, just to prove something to his brother. Something about her wanting to rule the world by his side… He still didn't get it, though. Chris knew she loved him, so why wasn't she budging the tiniest bit to help? He bit back a growl as he thought back on the more current happenings.

The using of their 'connection' had been a complete failure. The woman was a closed book with reinforced steel locks, and now he was trying to break through the bubble that was transporting them around the realm outside of time using telekinesis, his own shield, and recently fire.

Nothing seemed to work.

"Well, it was worth a shot," he commented, crossing his arms and sighing dejectedly. "Do you even know how to get out of here?"

Bianca smiled, something that was making Chris sick to his stomach now that he knew she didn't want to. "No," she smirked. "But Wyatt does."

The tunnel was wider than it had been before the massive cavern, and now there were lit torches in racks on the walls, showing them where any of the holes might be. They saw none and didn't hesitate to take advantage. They ran.

Only a few minutes in, who should trip and fall forward on a hole that hadn't been there two seconds ago, but Chris. The teen swore so loudly his voice reverberated throughout the stony tunnel. "-- Geez-zus Chrisst! Why iss it pick'een o'n mey?" the teen demanded in a strange, but beautiful (despite the choice of words) accent.

The ones in his presence looked surprised and amused. "What did you say?" queried Joden, eyes twinkling teasingly. When Chris threw him a death look, the other young man continued, innocently mystified, "I mean, I thought you told us you were from San Francisco, but that accent sure wasn't."

Chris glared, refusing to answer. As the wall lit up with the lavender runes, he read them out in a determined American accent. "What a mystery your past remains. Where you're from, friends ask in vain. Healthy friendship fairies are thus fixated, let the few see the time debated."

"What does it mean, 'fairies are thus fixated'?" asked Duncan in an arching voice.

"This place was apparently rigged by fairies," Paris responded with a smile, watching aloofly as a stream of green light poured into her friend's face. "And they are very happy, friendly little people."

They watched the scene unfold with interest. It was of a very young Chris, maybe four or five, sitting cross-legged on a bed in a spacious room with multiple books scattered around him. There was a very strangely colored raven sitting perched on his shoulder. Besides him and his black and scarlet raven, every single thing was white-- the walls, the floors, the bed and sheets, the book covers and pages, the door, everything. As he sat reading, in walked a woman dressed in the traditional Elder garb. The woman was Charity. "Lyei nona theh?" she asked in a very beautiful language, coming to sit next to him. He looked up, his expression distant. He responded in the same language, seemingly in a bored, frustrated mood.

She wrinkled her nose playfully and wiggled her finger, as if to scold him, saying in the language, "Nadiv tu. Dei en madis so ley."

The boy rolled his eyes, saying dejectedly, "Es-sunya. Ena so mahdi."

Joden looked shocked. "Look! You didn't have white hair!"

Chris stared at him as though not quite able to believe Joden could have said that. "Oh yeah, 'cause we all know how I was born with white hair," he remarked sarcastically, absently brushing his white bangs out of his face.

"Translation?" asked André, completely lost as the scene swirled, changing.

"Something along the lines of, 'Hey, what's up?' 'Nothing, thanks to you.' 'Don't try it. You've been playing evil again.' 'Can you blame me? It's boring around here.'" Chris responded in a single breath, ending with a wrinkled nose. "A time when English sounds like you've got sticks in your mouth."

"Yeah," said Paris, reminiscent. "You used to have such a pretty accent before San Francisco rubbed off on you."

Chris laughed and Leo asked curiously, "What did you do? She made it sound as though you were grounded."

Chris looked clueless as he wracked his brain for that particular memory. "I don't know… it might have been the time I was skateboarding and crashed into the council during one of their meetings. I think that was when I broke Odin's arm, too."

"So that's why he hates you," remarked Duncan thoughtfully.

Chris laughed. "Oh, no. That man has hated me long before that." But for what reasons, Chris didn't elaborate.

The scene settled again on a Chris, maybe two or three years older, who was sitting in a classroom at a table, his group sitting around the table with him. A girl suddenly voiced, looking up from her book at Chris, "I don't understand this. Could you spell it out for me, please?"

Looking somewhat taken aback, Chris raised an eyebrow. "This is Social Studies," he said in a breathtakingly beautiful and flourishing accent, alien to California. "What is there to not get?"

"Yeah, I don't understand it either," said another girl, gazing at him with wide eyes. "Why don't you just read it all aloud for us?"

"Did I miss something?" the 'out of country' boy asked in that continuously stunning accent, bewildered.

Another boy clapped him on the shoulder seriously, unaware of Chris' flinch, saying solemnly, "They just love hearing you speak, amigo."

Chris gave him a look patented to himself and himself only. "I'm not Spanish."

The scene ended, leaving all eyes on Chris.

"Do Whitelighters and Elders speak two different languages or something?" asked Piper, remembering the click-y language her husband had spoken to the other woman Whitelighter a few years ago. Chris nodded absently, lost in thought.

The rest of the team was smiling, though, and André cocked her head to the side. "Why don't you use that accent anymore? It's so pretty."

Chris glared. "Why don't you ask Duncan why he doesn't use his Scottish accent anymore?"

"Duncan's Scottish?" chorused several voices, turning to look at the vampire, who in turn looked at Chris.

"How did you know?" Duncan asked with a distant curiosity in his eyes.

Chris shrugged, "Your syllables are phrased a little weird sometimes. Nothing big though."

Duncan arched an eyebrow as if in consideration before he suddenly fell where he was standing. The group burst out laughing, until the same light that had shone in Chris' face splashed into Duncan's. They fell silent to watch.

The image was centered around a little boy, so they knew it had to be Duncan at a young age. But the boy didn't look like the vampire standing before them today. The little seven or eight year old had sandy brown hair and bright honey brown eyes. And he was clearly lost.

All around him adults rushed madly in every direction, pushing and jostling him as he cried in a foreign accent for his mama. Suddenly, out of nowhere, swept a woman garbed completely in black, loose and flowing clothes. The woman gathered him into her arms, ignoring the boy's fierce struggling then shimmered out with him.

The two reappeared in a vast cavern, next to a dark stone throne with a man in billowing black robes. Everyone watching immediately recognized the universal, classic signs of a Source. The woman threw the little Duncan down at the evil overlord's feet and bowed as the boy scrambled up, shivering and frightened.

"Where are w-we?" the young one asked in a shaky, young Scottish accent. "Where's m-my mama? Who are you p-people?"

The Source laughed, a sound that reverberated in the massive torch-lit cavern. "Yes, very good catch, Minerva. You may take him to the hunting plane."

"H-hunting p-plane?" repeated Duncan's young self with nervousness and fear. "What are y-you going to do with me?"

They could see the Source's evil grin even behind the shadow of the hood. "You, little human, are going to be hunted, on a magical plane where no one will ever find you, by my minions for sport. You are going to be a new vaytei. Do you understand that, human child?" he asked mockingly, then laughed a terrible, heart chilling laugh. "Of course you don't. But you will in time. You will. Now take him, Minerva."

The demon, with the same evil look, took Duncan's little arm and shimmered out with him. This time they reappeared in some kind of a jungle. It was nighttime. With a cruel and amused laugh, the demon, Minerva, flung the little boy on the overgrown ground and shimmered out, leaving him alone in the cold darkness.

It seemed like ages passed with the young one running desperately in unsystematic directions, simply trying to get away from the night sounds in the jungle. The small child was scared almost to death.

The ones observing, now in a half-horrified state, gradually felt that a length of time was passing, until it settled again on a day maybe a few weeks later. The child's clothes were torn and filthy when he suddenly went crashing to the ground with a cry of pain. He bit back a sob and curled forward to see his ankle, which was caught in some kind of metal jaw-like trap, crimson blood spilling from the deep, jagged wound. An open sob of pain and misery escaped him.

Then, onto the scene strode a woman, her long and wild hair black, her eyes endless tunnels of darkness. She moved with the feline grace of a huntress as she wove her way calmly to the small child. Her eyes locked onto Duncan's young brown ones and held them unyieldingly. As she reached him, the woman bent down and opened the trap with apparent ease, those dark coals never leaving the boy's face.

Duncan shakily moved his leg out of the way of the contraption, He didn't even try to stand. He knew he couldn't. And the huntress knew, too. For a moment, their contrasting eyes remained locked, and then, suddenly she was on him, her elongated fangs sinking into the child's exposed neck, reveling in his dying scream.

The memory faded into black. The ones witnessing were left speechless.

So that's what a vaytei is, mused Paige numbly. Someone demons hunt for sport…

It really was, as Paris said, sick.

She turned to see the adult Duncan, wild and silky black hair, pale complexion, and deep black eyes, looking at the stone wall as though still able to see something there that no one else could. The vampire's guarded and reinforced walls had cracked just enough to let a tiny light of honest emotion show through. That emotion was much like the one Chris had shown as they acted out his last conversation with his sister. Paige, like Phoebe, just couldn't place it.

"Duncan," began Paris softly, obviously Reading him the most thoroughly of those present. "That didn't happen because of anything you did. There was nothing you could have done to stop it. You have to understand that."

And even though her speech was short and simple, they could see how much it meant to Duncan, even as he voiced with a slight smile, "It sounds like you've had a lot of practice saying that."

Paris smiled sadly. "Yeah, it comes with being friends with that one for too long," she nodded to Chris, who rolled his eyes, but didn't complain. If it meant easing the awkward tension that was filling the wide tunnel, and thus making his teammate feel better, he couldn't object.

As soon as the troupe started walking again, however, Chris stumbled and swore loudly, catching everyone's attention.

"Hey," protested Joden, turning to Paris, mock affronted. "How come you don't tell him to stop swearing?"

"Because I have to remind him to not do other things," said Paris sweetly, kissing Joden on the cheek. Joden beamed and returned her kiss full on the lips, succeeding in making the others chorus the 'get a room' mantra.

Lights flickered more hesitantly onto the wall. Paris and Chris shared a sidelong look before the boy read out, "Wisdom states life without family is for naught. Mother and sister gone, but father and brothers are not. Yet never content were you. So what then did you go through?"

Chris swore again under his breath as the telltale green light flooded upon his face.

A/N: For those who may not know, an ankle bracelet is like a small plastic box the police department puts on the person's ankle (duh) when the person gets put under house arrest. The police can track the thing and know where the person is 24-7 using computers and satellites and stuff (GPS). House arrest is where a person can't legally go out of their house unless the police know exactly where it is that they are going (and when they should be back home).

Thanks for all the reviews everyone! I love hearing feedback! And yeah, I know this is getting complicated, so if you have any questions, ask in a review and I'll email you back personally if I can.

Leah: YES! Someone actually noticed that! The only difference is that they don't change shapes (except when Chris' melded with Jessica's, but that was just weird). Those are awesome books, though, aren't they?