Summary: This story is set in the future, sixteen years from the Season Six finale. Tasha, a girl whose past is unknown even to her, appears to the Charmed Ones, asking for help. Along the road to controlling her powers, an attraction springs up between her and Chris, but can their feelings for each other overcome the demons in her past--and future?
Dedicated to: A very dear friend of mine, without whom I could not have started this fic without my brain imploding from thinking too much, or my blowing my computer up. And I love her very much and would like to inform her Aadi's birthday is on the 7th of September. And I would ALSO like to mention how I used the candle analogy in this chapter, and to inquire how the novella is going.
Disclaimer: Heck, if I invented or owned anything, I would tell you. Oh, and if any of the Charmed cast/crew see this…don't sue me, hire me! I wouldn't have completely botched up Cole's little storyline. Or killed off Drew Fuller…
Thanks:To everyone who reviewed.
Random Fact: I love Orlando Bloom, but think that 'Orli' is the worst nickname EVER…
Chapter Four
"Will you just pay attention for one second?!" shouted Tash exasperatedly. Chris was leaning back in a chair, his feet propped on the table and his sunglasses covering his eyes. He stretched slightly and turned his head.
"Why bother? It's just a project, sweetheart. Don't sweat it."
"I am not your sweetheart, and I am sweating it because I don't want to screw up this assignment!"
"It is not that big a deal."
"Listen buddy," said Tash, jabbing a finger at Chris. "I am not giving up my afternoon's to just come and hang out in the history room with some punk, got it? I want to get an A for this, and if you get in my way, you're dead meat. Now stop acting like a dropout and help me!"
"You know, when you get mad, you squish together all those gorgeous features, and frankly…it's just not attractive in the least."
This was a flat-out lie, of course. Chris thought Tasha Fuller was gorgeous whether angry, happy, sad, or displaying any other emotion, for that matter.
Of course, the majority of the time she was angry. And usually at him.
"Oooh!" Tasha crunched some paper together. "Hear that? That's me scrunching my face and wishing I could break yours!"
"Temper, temper." said Chris, as calm as the ocean at dawn.
"And why are you wearing sunglasses? We're inside!"
"It's called 'style'. I doubt you posses any, judging by that outfit." he looked her up and down. She was wearing a long, flowing, powder-blue skirt and a royal blue v-neck short-sleeved top. She looked amazing, but why tell her that?
Tasha groaned. She would be much madder, but how could she? The way his chestnut brown hair fell over his forehead (She loved floppy hair on guys), his green eyes (Although they were covered by those awful sunglasses), and his chiseled features…
"Listen Chris. I am not standing for this anymore. Can you just pull your weight?"
"Oh, go to Hell. It's where you belong anyway," he said, by way of response.
"I don't have to! Knowing you is Hell enough!" snapped Tash. Chris grinned. She was sharp, he had to give her that. She'd better not push it though.
"What're you grinning about?" she demanded. "Someone hand you a mirror?"
That did it. He lifted up his shades, peering out from under them.
"Listen princess," he said coolly. "You're trying my patience. And my patience is a candle." He stood up and walked closer to her. He slowly took off his sunglasses and looked her right in the bright brown eyes with his green ones. He was much too close for her comfort…she could smell the chocolate that he had eaten for lunch…
"A candle," he repeated, enjoying the obvious effect he was having on her senses. "It burns bright at first, but then it just gets shorter, and shorter…'til…it goes out." He moved his face closer to hers. She closed her eyes, trying to gain her composure.
Now Halliwell! He thought frantically. Kiss her now! He began to lean further in, but stopped suddenly as her eyes flew open. "Are you being literal, or just using a really stupid metaphor?" she said coolly, before turning away and opening a book. He set his jaw and melted into the chair once more.
"You know what? Never mind. I am so tense now, that there's no way we'll get any work done. Let's just…leave." she slammed her books shut and crammed them into her backpack.
"Fine by me." said Chris serenely. He stepped out, and waited for Tash. She stomped out a few seconds later, slamming the door behind her. She stalked down the corridor, Chris close behind her, his long legs eating up the distance.
Suddenly she stopped, Chris almost slamming into her.
"Damn. I forgot my notebook."
"So get it tomorrow," said Chris.
"Listen, Neanderthal. There are things in that notebook I really don't want anyone else to see, OK? So you'll excuse me if I don't take your advice." Tash whirled around and started to walk back to the History room. He followed her, just to annoy her.
"Amscray, erkjay," she hissed. He clenched his fists. It was a rule of his that you never hit a girl. Not ever. No matter how crazy she made you. Never. But it was a rule Tash was tempting him to break. Just once, he pleaded with his conscience. Just once, right in the kisser.
"Are you sure no-one's ever pooped you one? You know, just got so mad that they punched you?" he asked conversationally.
"I'm sure plenty of people have 'popped you one'." she snapped.
He lost his temper. He seized her and slammed her against the wall, pinning her there with his arms.
"What is your problem?" he hissed between his teeth. "I'm being perfectly nice, and--"
"Perfectly nice?" she said a little hysterically. "Bull. You've been acting like a stubborn, spoilt wart."
"Listen, Tasha, I don't know what your issue is with me, but--"
"My issue with you is that you're an annoying brat, who thinks of no-one but himself, and has a problem with me 'cuz I happen to be friends with a girl he hates!" she shouted. "Why don't you just get over yourself, 'cuz you're not all that!"
"Shut up! Just—shut up! God! I thought you were different, you know. When you first arrived. I thought you were actually a nice person. I was so wrong…all you do is criticize and nag, and put people down."
"I am a nice person. Just not to bottom-dwellers like you! God, why don't you try moving to a different school, a whole different city, and see if you don't want to make friends? Not to fit in? Just leave me alone Chris. You're being an absolute ass over nothing. I have done nothing to you. So just…just screw off!" she yelled, fire in her eyes. She slid past him and ran off, turning down the hallway. Chris blinked, and stared after her.
What just happened? Shouted his brain. What the HELL did you do? Why did you do that? ARE YOU NUTS!? Chris slammed his head against the wall and groaned. Why did he let his temper just take him over sometimes? Why didn't he control it? Shaking his head, he ran after Tash, thinking she might be in the History room getting her notebook.
No such luck. He saw the lilac spiral-bound book resting on a desk, and picked it up, shoving it into his pocket. I'll give it to her tomorrow, he though decisively, I'll return it and apologize. He was about to leave the building for home when he heard a strange noise coming from the Spanish room. He looked in through the window and winced at what he saw. Tash was inside, sitting at a desk and crying, her face in her hands. OK, that's entirely my fault. I am such a jerk. He knew he should go inside and apologize, but something was stopping him. He had his pride, and she had been as nasty to him as he had been to her. He dropped the notebook onto the floor outside the door, and orbed out, his hands in his pockets. Tomorrow, he thought. I'll make it up to her tomorrow.
Maybe.
©WalkThruTheFire, 4th September 2004