Disclaimer: Hey… Aaron Spelling died of a stroke or heart attack or something… does that mean I can claim ownership, now? No? Well TOO BAD! MWHAHAHAHA! Okay, fine, I don't own Charmed. Screw u, 2, buddy.
In the not-so-far future where Chris is seventeen and Cole and Henry are plotting to keep him at the safe house against his will… They're still having breakfast…
"I think the stress of the war is finally getting to her," whispered Victor behind his hand, nodding wisely. It was about an hour later.
Chris raised his eyebrows, resisting the urge to grin. "Okay… the next time someone calls me insane, I am going to be able to say with confidence that it could be worse… At least I'm not talking to and crooning over syrup."
Cole gave him a playful glare, grumbling, "That's my wife you're talking about, Christine."
"So sorry to tell you this, Nicole, but no one forced you to marry her," said Chris smartly, grinning. He laughed and ducked as Cole tossed a waffle at his head. Instantly, Chris' to-be mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother told Cole off for throwing food at the table and warned Chris strictly against retaliating. Chris just wrinkled his nose at them in a very Prue-like manner and picked up his fork. Cole was sitting all the way on the other side of the table, next to his wife, and Chris couldn't reach him, so his stabbed Henry with the fork and said, glaring darkly at Cole, "Pass it down."
Henry made an 'ah' face, grinned, then stabbed his son in the shoulder (gently and playfully, people!), saying, "Pass it down," himself.
And so it went from family member to family member (to an amused looking and participating Bianca) until Piper of the past got to stab Cole, grinning. Cole glared at her momentarily before turning the look to Chris. He took up his own fork and stabbed his wife on his other side (who was still looking lovingly at her syrup) and said lightly, "Pass it down, please, sweetheart."
Phoebe looked up, then looked at her mother who sat on her other side. She sighed and picked up her fork. "Sorry, Mom, but I gotta ask you to pass this down," she said sadly and poked her mother with the utensil.
"It's okay, dear," said Patty, who picked up her own fork and stabbed her own mother, who glared at her, then stabbed less than playfully the unfortunate Victor instead of her great-granddaughter, who was only four. Victor scowled at her, then stabbed his deceased son-in-law, Andy, who stabbed Chris, who glared at Cole and was prepared to start it all over again, when they were interrupted by an amused voice.
"I know they say the Halliwells are a weird family, but this is just sad," Joden stated with a grin. He looked over at his seventeen year old commander and said, still amused, "I take it we're staying a little while longer, huh?"
Chris blushed and nodded as the rest of his team showed up. "Yeah, they won't let me leave just yet. You wanna come join us?" he asked hopefully, but Paris was already seated casually and in a conversation with Paige and Patty. It couldn't have been more obvious that she was (pretty much) just as familiar with the family as Chris was, which didn't escape his very clever FU team.
It hit Joden first. "Oh my God, you're a Halliwell!" he gasped loudly, eyes wide in shock and astonishment, causing everyone at the table to look up at him, then raise eyebrows at Chris.
Primrose sneered, "Well, I guess they know you're a Halliwell, now, after all, Kitty."
The FU team, save Paris, all stared at Chris. Joden muttered something like, "I knew it…" But Andre frowned.
"Did she just call you Kitty and live to tell about it?" the woman asked, pulling up a seat next to Victor, with whom she shook hands and shared introductions.
Chris rolled his eyes. "What can I say; they don't like it when I kill family members."
Joden and Duncan moved to sit down, too. Joden was looking at Chris as though comparing him to something in his mind and Chris got a very suspicious feeling wondering what it might be. "So…" Joden said slowly and at length. "You're the famous, previously assumed dead Christopher Perry Halliwell-- missing from birth until the age of five, expelled from three schools up till being institutionalized at age twelve for a handful of months, released and started the band C4 who topped record charts for several weeks with their only CD and mysteriously vanished when he was fourteen. …I've heard of you." He ended, giving Chris a narrow, knowing look.
Chris shifted uncomfortably in his seat, giving his teammate a strange look. "Uh… Joden, you're scaring me."
But suddenly Joden burst into a grin and pulled out a miniature book and tossed it to Chris. The Warren-Halliwell Bloodline: A Family's Biography. "Just messing with ya," Joden said with a mischievous grin as Chris curiously flipped through the pages and was met with pictures and summaries about each and every family member sitting at the table. It was only about a year old.
"Lemme see, lemme see!" cried Paige from the past and she happily yanked the book from his hands. She and the past Phoebe poured over it, absorbing all the future information like sponges. Chris just rolled his eyes. He knew someone was going to end up erasing their memories, anyway, so what did it matter?
Breakfast after that became a very casual affair again, family and Resistance team all talking and laughing easily. Every adult chided Chris about needing a haircut; the woman crooned over Paris' cute tank top that matched her eyes; Primrose was laughing after hearing about how Chris and Bianca had met; the littler kids (and Chris' uncle Henry) were building and comparing things they made out of their food; the youngest two from the past were talking about the new things they found in the biography with his aunt Paige and grandmother Patty; Victor and Penny were going at it again; Andy, Prue, and Cole were talking to Joden, Andre, and Duncan about the Resistance and Chris was sure he would hear a few good-natured jibes at his position there.
Chris and his parents from the past, however, were silently listening to their family around them, merely letting the contentment wash over them in blissful-like submission. Piper caught his eye after a moment and offered him a weak smile and Chris uncomfortably smiled back. It was still strange to see a look with that much love directed at him… but he knew it was genuine. He could feel with his empathy, he could hear it in her thoughts…
Almost an hour later, they were all still seated and talking, though their plates had been cleared of every food possibly desirable. The rest of the people staying at the safe house had already finished eating and were gone, leaving the entire cafeteria to the Halliwells and Resistance team. It was only then that Piper and Leo sighed, understanding that they couldn't stay in this time period any longer and just hang out. The two shared a look and resignedly moved to get their Phoebe and Paige's attention. The two young women were talking to their future children.
"Yeah?" asked Phoebe. She and her little sister both turned to see what it was the couple wanted.
Piper sighed again, reluctant to get on with it. At length, though, she conceded. "We have to get going," she said quietly. "We have to write a spell to make sure Chris-- our twenty-two year old Chris-- is okay, and get him back, then we have to leave."
Paige's eyes went round. "That's right," she mused, deflating slightly. "He said he'd find us, didn't he?"
"Yeah, over twenty-four hours ago," confirmed Leo.
Oh, Chris thought, unintentionally listening in. (What, was it really his fault he couldn't control his aunt's telepathy?) When I'm twenty-two I come back from the future to… probably 'save' Wyatt… Oh, damn. I bet he's going to love that… As though I'm not having trouble convincing him I haven't betrayed him, already… I bet I-- he-- got captured by Wyatt. Yeah, that'd be about the only thing keeping me from somewhere I'd promised I'd be… Huh. He's going to probably want someone to rescue him right about now…
However, before Chris could contemplate the matter further, his little two year old nephew orbed into his lap, startling him from his reverie.
"Logan!" he exclaimed before he could stop himself and instantly drew attention to himself and his "dead" brother's son. He winced slightly. Even though Logan was far less talkative than most normal two-year-olds, Chris knew without asking that he didn't like to be the center of attention.
Instantly, the family was crowding around, all squealing with delight at seeing their cousin/great-nephew alive and healthy. Chris couldn't make heads or tails of what they were all squealing or demanding, or gushing or anything, and judging from Logan's suddenly pouting and frightened expression, Chris could gather he couldn't either.
The seventeen year old rolled his eyes and threw out his hands, sending everyone crashing several feet away from him and his trepid nephew. He silenced their indignant exclamations with a slice of his hand and cut them off.
"Yes, this is Logan; yes, he is alive and healthy; yes, I am his guardian; yes, you are scaring him; and yes, you do need to back off," he answered as many questions as he could guess they had been asking and then his own.
They all glowered at him before sulkily moving back to their seats. Chris just rolled his eyes. They would get over it in approximately thirty seconds, anyway.
He turned back to his nephew, who was still staring up at him with big, watery silver eyes. He pushed the little boy's dark hair from his face, asking gently, "Hey, what's wrong, little guy?"
Logan blinked a few times before stating in a small voice, "Kwis is sad. Can I help make him better?"
Chris smiled and adjusted the toddler on his lap. "I'm not sad. You just surprised me is all. Now, what have I told you about orbing to me?" he ended in his best 'teacher' voice.
Logan's eyes went round as he brought back his uncle's words. "You said… said don't do it unless you know whe'e you'we going, 'cause I might dwop you next time," he quoted, lisping over the 'r's.
The Phoebe from the past laughed, shocked, and Paige asked in equally stunned tones, "You actually told your nephew that?"
Chris glanced up, noticing for the first time that the ones from the past had been listening in. He rolled his eyes. "Well, it's true. He orbs to me when I'm standing up sometimes and I have to catch him before he hits the ground." He paused, looked down at his nephew, then looked to his parents, thoughtful air about him. "…Do you want to hold your first grandson?" he asked at last, a little hesitantly.
Both their eyes instantly lit up, and Leo asked in a slightly wavering voice, "Do I?" implying that Chris didn't even have to ask. Glowing, Piper leaned across the table and gently picked up the little boy, murmuring soft, motherly words to him. Logan didn't seem frightened at all, but glowed radiantly in his grandmother's arms.
"He's older than Wyatt in our time," said Leo playing with the small child's hands, "so that would mean his mother had him when Wyatt was sixteen or seventeen…?"
Chris nodded, trying to remember his parent's reaction to hearing their son was going to be a teenage father. "Yup… I think he was seventeen and Monica was sixteen…"
"Monica?" repeated Piper, and suddenly it clicked. This little boy had his mother's silver eyes, his mother that they had seen out on a date with their son in the first of the time remote's stops. "Yeah… they seemed like they really belonged together…"
Chris' brow wrinkled. Where had they met Monica when Wyatt in their time was less than two years old? He was about to ask them when he noticed Logan looking intently at Piper. He also sent out a telepathic wave towards his mother to see what Logan was seeing (or hearing, rather) and found his mother thinking again about this twenty-two year old him. Then Logan's eyes started to glow and the little boy cocked his head to the side, still gazing at his grandmother intently.
"Logan, don't!" Chris cried, realizing just a moment too late that this was how the little boy behaved before summoning someone who, in general, was not supposed to be there. This was how the little boy had summoned his father, Wyatt, as a fourteen year old when Chris had been reluctant to answer questions about him. This was how Logan had summoned a character out of the television when it went to a commercial and he didn't want it to.
Now, the golden beads of summoning lights appeared in front of the table, behind Chris. The seventeen year old spun around in his seat, along with everyone else seated on that side, to find a figure materializing within the golden spheres.
At first Chris didn't recognize the body that lay as motionless as the dead, eyes open and… empty. Blue-green eyes. Dark brown hair, no white. But after a moment of shocked silence, he mused to the ones from the past, "So that's the Chris you were talking about."
That seemed to break the trance-like state everyone had fallen into. Piper, Leo, Phoebe, and Paige from the past, along with the only Prue, were the first to jump from their seats and rush to the young man's side. Chris followed suit a bit more reluctantly, knowing the hollow look in his future self's eyes couldn't be good. Patty and Penny motioned for the rest of the startled and bewildered family and friends assembled to stay put, but they could hardly stop the flood of incoherent demands to know what was going on, who was this, why was he here, how did he get here, etc.
"Chris, Chris, sweetie," said Piper, outwardly calm but inwardly panicking. She gently brushed his dark, sweat-soaked hair from his face and searched his deadened eyes while Leo scanned over his body for physical injuries. "Chris, honey, it's Piper. From 2004. Sweetheart, please, say something. Are you… in there?"
They seemed to each be holding their breath, waiting for a response of any sort. And, after what felt like an eternity, the future boy's glamoured blue-green eyes slowly turned to his young mother. No hint of emotion played in them, nothing but emptiness. No recognition, confusion, pain, sorrow, not even the standard blankness. Just… nothingness.
Then, every empath in the room screamed.
Before the young Chris could realize what was going on through the blinding cannonade of raw agony, he and everyone else gathered around his future self were hurtled into the air by a storm of concentrated telekinesis. They collided harshly with random, thankfully adult, family members and crashed to the ground with them.
"Sorry," Chris mumbled to Victor groggily, rubbing his temples as his grandpa helped him to his feet. The man brushed off the apology easily and asked if he was alright. But before he could respond, Chris could suddenly feel an ungodly hatred flooding from his adult counterpart, clashing and churning with the initial anguish. Just feeling it empathically forced the young one to his knees, gasping.
Beside the horrified and concerned old man and shocked grandson, Primrose (empath) was close to hyperventilating, along with her little sister and brother (also empaths). Both Phoebes were gripping the table they were now leaning against so tightly their knuckles were pure white; their breathing was forced. His future self's emotions were writing a new book on the concept of intensity.
Just as they were all getting a grip on what was happening again, Chris noticed his older self also getting to his feet, glamoured eyes taking in the room and inhabitants with that same hatred and fury the empaths felt. What…? Why would he hate the people in this room? This was his family, too, and the younger teen couldn't see himself hating any of them any time soon. Well… maybe Primrose, but she was just special like that.
The 'twenty-two' year old was almost literally shaking with rage, and before anyone could ask what the heck was going on, or what his problem was, the young man spat, "How dare you! You think making me see them while you killed her wasn't enough? HOW DARE YOU!"
He swiped his hand violently and the long table they all sat at flew up at them, sending more than a few people crashing backwards with a table on top of them. Prue instantly waved her own hand and it rose off them, and with another movement, the telekinetic woman sent it gently to the other side of the cafeteria.
"Oh, if you want to play, fine by me!" the 'twenty-two' year old yelled, furious and haunted at the same time. He swept out a hand and before anyone could react, Prue was sent hurling straight through the ceiling where she collided with something very hard and very solid, and fell back to the ground with a horrible thud. There were several shocked and horrified screams. Piper, both Phoebes, and the future Paige rushed to the fallen woman's side to find her unconscious while the past Paige screamed,
"Chris, what the hell do you think you're doing?"
"Aw, is Auntie Paige disappointed in me?" queried the future Chris in tones of mock concern and hurt. His voice hardened drastically as he hissed, "You always were harder to please than Phoebe," and swiped out with his hand again. This time, however, Paige found herself able to act over her shock and orbed out before she could hit the ceiling.
This seemed to infuriate the future one even more, however, and he shouted, "What the hell, Wyatt! You killed an innocent whitelighter just to give your freaking shape shifter it's power? You sick bastard! All of you are! You should be the ones to die! NOT-- THEM!" And with that, a wave of pure fire and its heat soared at the stunned and bewildered family.
Without thinking, the young Chris threw out both hands and absorbed the pythonic flaming mass into himself. He was left breathless from the intensity of it, and exhaled smoke for a shallow breath or two, but he was otherwise unaffected.
"What do you mean, shape shifters?" the boy demanded sharply, despite his lack of sufficient oxygen.
The senior of the two, however, seemed not even to notice him. He was already furious again, and this time at the 'shape shifters' impersonating his little cousins. He flung out an arm and sent Porter, Palomah, Petra, and Parker flying with vicious force, groaning (or growling), "The little ones, too? God…"
"NOOO!" screamed the mothers and fathers, jumping back to their feet from being knocked on their butts by the table incident. Paige of the future threw out her hand and yelled, "KIDS! GREAT HALL!" And the screaming mass of youths vanished in blue orblights before they could hit the upturned table legs.
The alleged twenty-two year old threw out his hand again and this time Paige was too slow to avoid colliding with the concrete wall. She was knocked unconscious with a sickening crack.
"PAIGE!" Everyone else exclaimed, making a rush towards their fallen relative.
"Aw, this is so sweet," said the future Chris in tones of mock touched-ness (A/N: good grief, aren't you amazed at my extensive vocabulary?). "Even pretending to be concerned is an accomplishment for you damn shape shifters," he spat, voice changing drastically again. "You are going to pay for this, do you understand me? No demon will EVER live to tell about impersonating-- my-- FAMILY!"
He swiped his hand and sent a stone column (ripping it off its foundations) at them. Gasping in surprise, Piper flung out her hands and froze the mass only inches from the nearest's face. She released her breath in a rush, eyes still wide in shock. Then she rounded on her presently eldest son. "Christopher Perry Halliwell!" she vociferated, making the younger Chris wince with painful memories. She sounded exactly like his mother… "What the hell do you think you're doing?"
The older Chris' eyes turned completely stony above the vast emptiness. Without an outward movement, he telekinetically pulled Piper into the air, cutting off her air supply as he did so. Piper choked, grasping uselessly at her throat as the young man hissed dangerously, "So, you think you can command me just because you're impersonating my mother? Is that it?" Without waiting for an answer, he spat in honey-coated venom, "Well, sweetheart, I'm sorry to say, but you are sadly mistaken!"
He threw her violently through another thick stone column and the woman landed among rubble, unconscious and pouring blood from her nose and mouth. There were more cried of protest and horror, but the psychotic Chris silence them all by throwing the rest of the conscious population into walls.
The seventeen year old could do nothing to stop it and slammed into the very solid architectural structure with everyone else. The number of people crumpled to the floor. For a moment, darkness swam in his vision and his entire body ached with the impact. He groaned, forcing the blackness out of his mind and strained to sit back up. His muscles protested but he ignored them.
As he painstakingly got into a sitting position, he noticed his older self also on the ground, unharmed but rocking back and forth, eyes wide open in some unknown emotion, even to the empath. Upon closer inspection, the seventeen year old could make out the words he was mumbling.
"No… no… no…no… no… Be quiet… no… no… just leave-- me-- alone…! Please, no… go away… JUST GO AWAY AND LEAVE ME ALONE!" he finished, practically screaming, voice cracking pitifully, tears were streaming down his cheeks. "YOU'RE DEAD SO ACT LIKE IT AND SHUT THE HELL UP! ---DAMN IT !" He ended, kneading his temples harshly with the heel of his hands. "Damn it, damn it, damn it, damn it !"
The seventeen year old frowned, head still a bit foggy from smashing into the remarkably well built wall. "… Who are you talking to?" he asked hoarsely, blinking back more darkness.
But his senior didn't hear him over whatever he was hearing in his head. "I'm sorry," the older one sobbed quietly, drawing his knees up to his chest and folding his arms around them. He buried his face in his arms, continuing to cry quietly. "I'm sorry you're dead… but leave me… alone… I can't bring back the dead… Nothing can… Just go away…"
The seventeen year old looked around at the unmoving bodies of his relatives. Cole was nearest. While his older self was distracted, Chris leaned over and checked his uncle's pulse. He was alive, as were both the Phoebes around him. But, by the looks of things, they all had sustained serious head injuries that needed extremely quick healing.
Checking to make sure his psychotic self was still preoccupied, the boy crept over to his aunt Paige, who he knew had the power to heal. He wasn't sure about her past self. The woman was out cold, a bloody gash on the back of her head, and didn't look like she'd be waking up any time soon. Chris held his hands over her and tried to force the warm golden glow to them, but after a few moments of nothing, he could tell it wasn't going to work. He sighed quietly and glanced over at his unmoving to-be father. If there was any time to get over his issues with the man, he believed now would be that time-- before he started blaming himself for killing the last remains of his family and causing himself to cease to exist (by killing his mother from the past, too, who still lay bleeding from her crash through the column).
Wait… was that even possible? If he killed his mother before he was born, he wouldn't be born to kill her and she would live, have him, and he would grow up to kill her (again). What the heck…?
Shaking aside the notions of time travel, Chris cleared his head and moved reluctantly to wake his father.
After only a few more moments of hesitation, the son forced himself to touch his father's shoulder and give it a hesitant shake. "Leo!" he called quietly, as to not draw his future self's wrath on them once more. Nothing. "Leeeeeeeeeo, wake up!" Still nothing. "Leo!" he tried, a little bit louder. Still nada. Chris rolled his eyes in frustration and all but yelled, "Your wife needs you, now wake up, man!"
Of course, bringing his beloved wife into the picture always made him listen up. He woke with a start and looked around wildly before his eyes found his seventeen year old son, who was hiding his trepidation rather well, Chris thought.
"Chris, are you okay? What happened?"
"Nothing, I'm fine," snapped the boy, moving out of the way. "You need to get healing, now, or some of my cousins will be orphaned-- if any of us even get born, now, that is."
Leo's eyes instantly moved to Piper and he rushed to her side and healed her. She sat up groggily, rubbing her head. Before he could get to anyone else, however, his eyes flew to his future son who was jumping up from the floor and yelling,
"GET OUT OF MY HEAD AND JUST DIE QUIETLY! I-- CAN'T-- HELP-- YOU!" And, without warning, he began hitting his head violently against the concrete wall behind him, jerkily commanding of the voices, "Out-- out-- out-- out-- out-- out--"
"Oh my God, Chris, stop that!" exclaimed Leo, horrified, and rushed forward to grab his future son by the shoulders. Big mistake.
A/N: Hey peoples, sorry for the delay. I was on a roll, I know, but I got seriously grounded and lost all 'computer privileges.' Anyway, think I made Chris insane enough? It's hard writing him like that… but extremely fun. ((BAD WARRIORA! THAT'S EVIL!))Hey peoples, sorry for the delay. I was on a roll, I know, but I got grounded and lost all 'computer privileges.' Anyway, think I made Chris insane enough? It's hard writing him like that… but extremely fun. ((BAD WARRIORA! THAT'S EVIL!))
TWO MORE CHAPTERS-- I think… I want to say this isn't ending until you pry my cold dead fingers off the keyboard, but… I pretty sure some people would take that as permission to kill me and actually try to, so I'll just avoid verbalizing that phrase…
Stoneage Woman: Dern it, that was a good threat, and if I hadn't blown up my sink I would have updated the next day (probably). Oh well. Think you could aim the next one at my muse? She needs a good wake-up call…
SC: Thankyou! I hadn't even realized I passed up the opportunity to explain that, like, a dozen chapters ago, but I'll try to get it in here anyway. Thanks for reminding me!