A/N: This was actually ready to post a few days ago, but unfortunately ffn was acting up on me. It's still not fixed, so forgive the formatting errors. The next chapter won't be as quick though, since the holidays (and my free time) are over.
Thanks go to chattypandagurl, Sparkling Cherries, Zeria, Kayla, Charmed Ravenclaw. Good to know that people are still reading this fic!
The End of All Things
Chapter 10
"Your friend was a fucking coward. Pleading with me not to shoot. Freak couldn't take it like a man."
Chris' blood boiled.
Everything that he had worked for…everything that he had fought tooth and nail for…all the sacrifices he'd made…friends and family he'd lost…
None of it mattered a damn.
The world was still full of conflict, still locked in its never ending struggle between good and evil.
People still died – good, decent people. People who were his friends. People like Les. Killed by idiots and fanatics who didn't give a rat's ass that they were harming the very people trying to help them.
The only other time he had felt this angry had been when Bianca…
Les was gone. He'd failed him. He'd been too slow.
Too late.
Chris stared into the killer's eyes, feeling a hatred he'd rarely, if ever, had felt this strongly.
It sickened Chris to his stomach.
This man would never fully understand the ramifications of what he'd done. People like him never did. He would continue forward in life, experiencing all the wonderful things life had to offer without an appreciation. All the things his victim should have experienced, and would have appreciated.
He cocked the gun.
Too late!He had never felt so damn useless in all his life.
His teeth clenched.
He could feel his finger trembling on the trigger.
There was no remorse in the other man's eyes. No acknowledgement of the heinous act committed. Only a righteous fury.
He felt his own anger rise, choking his throat in a stranglehold.
"So you going to take it like a man?"He squeezed the trigger.
Sheridan got out from behind her desk, striding forward to greet her two guests, "D.J., Kyle." She held out her hand, indicating for them to take a seat, "How are you two? I thought Les was coming as well?"
Nodding his head at the woman, D.J. choose the chair to the right of the desk, and sitting down, "Les is right behind us. He's just following up on something and he'll join us afterwards."
Taking her seat once again behind the giant, dark wood desk, Sheridan sighed, "So what can I help you boys with today?"
Kyle looked at D.J. for confirmation before saying, "Chris asked us to question the man who discovered the valkyrie's pendant."
Running a hand through her hair, Sheridan looked slightly harassed, "I don't know what to tell you two. I've questioned him myself. He honestly doesn't know anything. I think he's the innocent party in all of this."
"We know, but I still think we need to question him. It would help us get to the bottom of this faster," Kyle coaxed.
Sheridan's eyes narrowed, reading between the lines, "You mean, you want Les to read his mind."
Kyle shot a glance at D.J., who shrugged. "Perhaps," Kyle broached carefully.
Getting to her feet crossly, Sheridan shot an angry look at the two Resistance fighters, "Are you kidding me? Doesn't that violate some sort of code you people have?"
D.J. crossed his arms defensively, "You know our telepaths have sworn to never read someone's mind without permission."
"So why come to me?" Sheridan's gaze narrowed as comprehension dawned on her. "I see now. You want me to do your dirty work. To give you permission to read that poor man's mind."
"He obviously can't make the decision himself," D.J. pointed out calmly. "We need to be able to say we obtained permission from…someone who can claim responsibility for him."
Sheridan laughed humourlessly, "You mean, you need a scapegoat in case someone questions your actions."
"That's not what we're saying at all," Kyle said, rather uncomfortably, shifting in his seat as he traded another glance with D.J.
"Oh really?" Sheridan's right eyebrow shot upwards sardonically. "Because it sure as hell sounds like it from here." Sitting back down in her chair, she folded her arms across her chest, "I can't believe Chris would ever condone such a thing."
"Well, actually…" D.J. started. About to continue, he snapped it shut as the door behind him suddenly burst open. Swivelling around in his seat, he blinked in surprise as a fresh faced young man barged in, his eyes were wild as he searched for Sheridan.
"What is it?" Sheridan barked, annoyed by the interruption.
The young man, a boy really, his youthful face tight with concern as he gasped out, "Gun shots! In the courtyard in section 9."
The other three occupants in the room stared at each other in astonishment, clearly stunned. Not knowing what to do, the messenger's eyes ping ponged wildly from person to person, his voice desperate, "What should I do?"
As if emerging from a dream state, without a word Sheridan leaped to her feet, shoving past the confused young man, with D.J. and Kyle hot on her heels.
The gun cocked.
Leo gasped, "Chris – wait –,"
"So you going to take it like a man?"A shot rang out.
Piper's eyes widened. "No…"
Unable to stop her son, Piper did the next best thing. Reacting on instinct, she threw up her hands and froze the scene. Her mouth dry, she watched as the bullet, Jeremiah…everything…came to a standstill.
That was too close, Piper thought, feeling her brow break out in sweat.
Her son glanced over, the look on his face making her cringe, "Unfreeze it. Now."
Piper looked into the young man's eyes, his eyes still burning with rage, his voice flat and completely emotionless. Feeling her heart contract, Piper swallowed convulsively, before saying determinedly, "No."
Whirling on his mother, Chris' eyes blazed a brilliant green as he bit out heatedly, "He killed Les! You want me to let him get away with that? He murdered my friend in cold blood! The bastard killed him without a second thought! And for what? For what?"
Piper flinched at Chris' tone but she held her ground. She wasn't fighting for Jeremiah. She was fighting for Chris. Knowing he would dismiss any emotional outburst from her, Piper tried to get through to him, her voice calm yet firm, "Chris. If you do this…there's no going back."
Chris stared at his mother as the seconds ticked by, as if weighing in his mind the words she had just spoken and his own desires. Piper refused to back down, watching him steadily as he struggled with his emotions, praying she would reach him.
Abruptly, he threw the rifle to the ground in frustration, cursing, "Fuck! Fuck!"
She watched helplessly as her son cursed and swore, his anger over the death of his friend completely and utterly raw. She stood there, shivering in the cold rain, unable to provide him the comfort he so desperately needed.
Finally coming to a standstill, Chris' shoulders slumped forward as if in defeat. He looked up at the sky, letting the rain pour down over his face before finally turning to face his mother. Piper could see his anger was now under control, the fire in his eyes banked but still flaming, as he told her, hoarsely, "It's not fair."
Her heart broke. Piper could only reply uselessly, "I know."
Meeting his mother's gaze, and his father's stunned one, Chris turned away to shoot a look of disgust at the man sprawled on the earth with his expression frozen in fear. With a wave of his hand, Chris sent the bullet spinning towards the ground, burying it into the pile of rubble that was all that was left of the house he'd brought down earlier.
Sighing with relief, Piper waved her hands, letting the scene unfreeze.
Jeremiah automatically threw his arms up to protect himself, and then lowered them cautiously as he realized nothing happened. He looked up, seeing only Chris' disgusted expression looking down at him before Chris cold-cocked him.
"Chris! What the hell is going on?"
Both Chris and his parents turned in the direction of the voice. Inwardly suppressing a groan, Chris could only say tiredly as he moved back from the now unconscious Jeremiah, "Sheridan."
Trailing behind the former inspector were Kyle and D.J. As the trio skidded to a halt on the wet cobblestones, D.J. let out a string of curses as he caught sight of his friend. Dropping to his knees, D.J. stared down at the face of his good friend, running his hand over his face before briefly closing his eyes in pain, "Ah, Jesus. No."
Chris met the shocked gaze of Sheridan, his tone clipped, "Jeremiah happened." As Sheridan visibly flinched, Chris opened his hand and once again using his telekinesis, the rifle jumped into his hand from where it lay on the ground. Deliberately putting the safety back on, he flipped the rifle butt towards Sheridan, indicating for her to take it. "He used this."
Taking the weapon from Chris with unsteady hands, Sheridan raised her eyes to meet Chris', "Chris – I'm sorry…"
Barely acknowledging her statement with a curt nod of his head, his gaze focused on Kyle who was still staring in shock at their fallen friend. "Kyle, take D.J. and…" Chris paused before continuing, his voice faltering slightly, "and…Les' body back to base."
Kyle raised his head to meet Chris' eyes, his head shaking slowly as if confused, "We split up for fifteen minutes. He said he was right behind us." Kyle's voice was almost a plea, "He said he was right behind us…"
Not unsympathetic, Chris kept his emotions tightly under control, merely replying, "Take them back to base, Kyle. Now."
The whitelighter nodded uncertainly and moving forward, grasped D.J.'s shoulder and placed a gentle hand on Les. The three disappeared in a swirl of orbs, leaving behind only the sound of Phoebe's hoarse weeping.
"Where is Jeremiah now?" Sheridan asked, her tone awkward.
Chris' face was expressionless, as indicated with a jerk of his head, "Over there."
Skirting her way around the Charmed Ones and Chris, Sheridan moved in the direction Chris had indicated. As she caught sight of Jeremiah's condition, she recoiled in shock, "Chris! What have you done?"
"I needed to know who he worked for," Chris replied coldly. "I needed a name."
"Well, I hope you got it," Sheridan snapped, a little waspishly. "Did you really have to beat the poor man to pulp to get it?"
"No," Chris agreed quietly. "But I did if you didn't want him dead."
Throwing a glance over her shoulder to see if Chris was joking, Sheridan paled as she realized the young man was deadly serious. Her face was drawn, "I think you had better leave."
Piper sputtered in astonishment, "Are you kidding? That…that man just shot Les. Killed him! Because of Chris, we now know Zankou is mixed up in this somehow. And you're throwing Chris out?"
"Les was my friend also, Piper," Sheridan stood up, looking down at the ground at her unconscious companion. She had never really liked Jeremiah, but still… "I have to do what I think is right. The others will be here soon. I think it'd be better if I explained to them what happened. And that none of you are here when I do."
She exchanged a significant glance with Chris, saying only, "You've put me in a really awkward position, Chris."
Chris locked eyes with Sheridan and with a curt nod, he orbed out.
Paige shot a glance at Piper from her kneeling position on the ground next to Phoebe. At her eldest sister's nod, she orbed herself and Phoebe away, Phoebe still weeping in Paige's arms.
Piper looked at Sheridan, indignity clear in her tone as her voice rang out across the courtyard, grabbing Leo's hand, "You don't know what you've done."
And with that, they disappeared in a swirl of orbs.
Chris didn't want to face the ramifications of Les' death. Making sure the door was shut, he entered his room not bothering to turn on the light.
He liked the darkness.
Today was Les' memorial. But Chris couldn't bring himself to attend. He knew Darryl, DJ and the others would know he'd want to be alone, if only for a little while.
Since they had first orbed back from New San Francisco, Chris hadn't allowed himself to feel. Too many things to do, too many things to worry about – he had pushed Les' death to the back of his mind. Unable to think about…it. Unable to deal with…it.
Les had been one of his best friends and confidant; they'd bonded over a common cause and purpose but became fast friends over similar values. He'd been one of few that Chris could be completely himself. Bianca, Darryl and Sheila had been the only others who were afforded that privilege. Reluctantly, he cracked a grin, remembering…
Les grinned wickedly, "It's nice to know the infallible Chris Halliwell, leader of the Resistance, is just as human as the rest of us."
He'd never been afraid to call Chris on the carpet when needed. And he'd never failed to watch Chris' back. And now…now he was gone. In one violent and rapid gesture, Les' life had been severed. Extinguished. Terminated.
All because he'd been scant minutes too late.
He'd never felt so angry.
And tired.
Tired of the dying, tired of the fighting, tired of trying…just…so…damn…tired.
As if his body couldn't support his weight anymore, Chris stumbled over to the nearest wall and slowly he slid downwards sinking to the floor. Leaning his head back against the wall, he closed his eyes and shook his head mentally. What the hell?, he thought a little desperately.
He rubbed his face wearily. Opening his eyes, he let his eyes adjust to the darkness.
So many people gone.
So many people dead.
And for what?, Chris wondered bitterly. He'd tried to save Bianca and she had still died. He had tried to go back to the past to save his brother, and not only had he died too, Chris had ended up killing him. Sheila. Mom. Dad. And now Les.
He had failed to save them. All of them.
Any of them.
He had failed to save the future.
He had failed…them.
The world was coming apart, unravelling faster than Chris could comprehend. Magic had been exposed, and those who were once friends and allies were now degenerating into enemies. Tensions were high, hostility was rampant and fear was slowly but inevitably sweeping the population.
Exactly how it was before with Wyatt, Chris thought in despair.
It seemed nothing had changed.
And that nothing ever would.
So then…
What the hell what he fighting for?It had never stopped raining, making Phoebe wonder if even the heavens themselves were in mourning. The wind whipped at her, sending her hair into a frenzy and she tightened her grip on her umbrella, huddling under the clearly inadequate shelter. Already her clothes were soaked, plastered to her body, the soggy material making her shiver so hard her teeth seemed to rattle.
Phoebe was vaguely aware of her sisters on either side of her, offering her their support through their comforting presence. At the podium, Darryl was reading his prepared eulogy, his words washing over her in a distorted haze. Phoebe stared at the dark wood box where she knew Les' body lay, unable to look away.
Tears pricked her eyes. Swallowing a hiccup, Phoebe tried to focus on Darryl's words. But all she could hear was the sound of her own heart.
Why?She desperately wanted to know the answer to that question. She desperately wanted him back. She desperately wanted…the future that might have been.
Neither Paige nor Piper had questioned her intense grief at Les' death. Phoebe assumed Paige had clued Piper into her feelings for Les. However, neither of them asked, merely imposing their own suppositions on her and Les' relationship. Probably assuming they had confessed their love for each other just before his death.
It couldn't have been further from the truth.
Oh, they had kissed. Acknowledged their burgeoning feelings for each other. But it wasn't like they had confessed their undying love. While she knew she had had feelings for Les, the truth was she hadn't known him long enough to fall in love. At least…not completely.
The truth was, she was being selfish. She was selfish because the tears she shed, the profuse weeping and the hoarse crying weren't for Les. She was mourning for what could have been – for the bright, shining future that had been dangled so temptingly in front of her before being so cruelly snatched away.
Here, her sisters, hell… everyone around them, thought she was grieving over Les' death. And she was. Just not in the way they thought she was.
Just not in the way she should.
The pallbearers came forward, gently picking up the long coffin. They shuffled by her, completely unaware of the icy rain pelting down relentlessly from the sky, their faces sombre and grey. She picked out the faces she recognized, Darryl, then Duncan…Zach…Kyle…D.J. Their sorrow so raw and apparent, it made her want to cry out.
As she exchanged a grief-stricken glance with D.J., Phoebe felt ashamed as she witnessed the deep-rooted heartache displayed by his friends while all she could think about was what could have been.
Les deserved better.
Better than her.
As the last of the processional filed by, Leo and Piper exchanged concerned glances. Bending their heads together under the umbrella they shared, they whispered something, drawing Phoebe's attention. At her questioning look, Piper looked guiltily, "I'm sorry. We're just worried about Chris."
Staring down at her crumpled handkerchief for a moment, Phoebe raised her now dry eyes to meet Piper's. It was time to be the grown up she always claimed she was and set aside her own feelings, "No. You're right. I'm worried, too. Where do you think he is?"
Piper looked up at Leo, her voice tinged with concern. "He should have been here." Looking around helplessly and not spotting her son anywhere, "I think…he should have been here," Piper finished lamely.
Paige was staring off into the distance over Phoebe's shoulder, her gaze focused on the processional. "I think they're going to bury him now." She looked at Phoebe, "We should go."
Phoebe nodded, before turning back to Piper, who was gathering her things, getting ready to leave, "Piper. I think you should go find Chris."
Piper blinked at Phoebe in surprise, "But you need me."
Phoebe shook her head, her voice soft, "Chris needs you more."
About to argue with her sister more, Piper was neatly cut off by Leo's interruption, "I'll go."
"What?" Piper shook her head slightly, not comprehending.
"I'll go and find Chris. You go with Phoebe," Leo replied firmly. Seeing Phoebe about to argue, Leo shook his head. "I think…it would be better if I find him."
Piper stared at Leo for a moment, before nodding reluctantly, "All right. Go. But promise you'll come get me if you need me. If Chris needs me."
Leo nodded, and handing the umbrella to his wife, he raised Piper's hand to press a kiss against her knuckles before orbing out.
"Honestly, Piper. I'm fine. You could have gone with Leo," Phoebe protested, feeling absolutely horrid that Piper felt she needed to stay behind.
Seeing the guilt in Phoebe's eyes, Piper rushed to reassure her, "I know. It's just…I think Leo might be right. He might be the best person for Chris to talk to right now." At Paige's puzzled look, Piper explained, "Leo has experience with…war…and…loss."
The three sisters stared at each other in shared silence. Finally, breaking the moment, Paige looped her arm through Phoebe's, and nodded at Piper, "Shall we go?"
Phoebe smiled sadly, her gaze now focused on the last of the crowd of dark suits leaving. "We shall."
Leo knocked on Chris' room door.
"Chris?" Leo called out, entering the darkened room. He was worried about his son; Chris not showing up for Les' memorial was a clear indication that something was wrong.
About to leave and search elsewhere, a flash of white caught his attention. Turning back slowly, he approached the two sneakers, the only part of Chris that Leo could make out from the shadowy corner at the back of the room. "Chris?"
Silence.
"Come on, Chris," Leo said patiently, standing a couple of feet away. "I know it's you. I can hear you breathing."
No response.
"We missed you at the service today," Leo prompted, vaguely unsure how to draw Chris out. "I think everyone really…missed you. Darryl was wondering where you were."
Still nothing.
Taking another couple of steps forward, Leo crouched down. He could barely make out Chris' form from the dim light of the hallway filtering into the room. Chris' knees were drawn up against his chest, his arms lightly resting on top. His head was tilted back, leaning against the wall behind him for support and his eyes were closed. "Chris?"
His voice sounded like gravel, rough and hoarse with disuse, to Leo, "Go away."
Sitting down on the floor next to his son, Leo crossed his legs and regarded his son thoughtfully, "Do you want to talk?"
A pause and then, in a low whisper, "I want you to go away."
Leo tried again, "Chris. Son. I know how much Les meant to you. I can't imagine how you feel –,"
"Then you'll appreciate that I want you to go away," Chris replied, his voice still so low that Leo had to strain his ears to hear Chris.
"But I think it would help if you talked about it with someone," Leo continued, ignoring the interruption.
Chris laughed humourlessly, "Not everything can be fixed with a couple of words of wisdom, Elder."
The casually tossed out barb hit its mark, causing Leo to physically wince. "I don't…I never…I know it won't. But it might…ease…your pain…if you shared it with someone."
Again, nothing.
Sighing, Leo knew he couldn't force Chris to trust him, let alone share his feelings with him. Everything was too raw right now – his son was in pain and there was nothing he could do about it. Starting to rise to his feet, Leo patted his son awkwardly on the leg, "If you need to talk to someone, just remember…I'm a good listener."
Straightening, Leo tried to read his son's face in the shadows. Giving up, he turned to leave, not knowing what else to do.
"I…wait…"
Almost to the door, Leo paused at Chris' hoarse plea. Reaching out, he closed the door, and turned back, approaching his son slowly. "Chris? What is it?"
"I didn't…I couldn't…I just…" Chris stuttered.
Leo returned to kneel next to his son, reaching out to put a comforting hand on his shoulder. He prompted, "Yes?"
Chris shook his head. "I didn't go to the service because…I would have been a hypocrite."
Leo shook his head, "I don't understand."
"People go to…services…to remember. To grieve. To find and to provide comfort," Chris whispered. "But I don't feel any of those things."
Leo simply waited.
"I don't want to grieve. I don't want any comfort," Chris' voice began to build in volume. "I want to scream and yell and punch something…anything."
Leo looked confused, "Chris?"
"Don't you get it?" Chris bit out angrily. "I'm fucking mad. I'm fucking mad and angry and…goddamnit," Chris swore. "I fucking want to kill someone." He shot his father a look, "And I almost did."
"The important thing is, you didn't," Leo replied firmly. "You came to your senses, and you made the right decision."
Chris snorted. "But I'm still pissed…no, I'm furious…with that, that bastard. I want to fucking rip his head off. I want him to suffer. I want him to feel pain." A pause. "And I want to be the one to do it."
"It's natural to feel some sort of anger," Leo counselled. "Especially when a death is so senseless…" Leo swallowed, searching for the right words, "I think…I think you're not the only who feels that way." At Chris' look of disbelief, Leo struggled, "Darryl. Lilah. They loved him too. I think if you asked them, they would tell you they feel just as angry."
Pushing himself abruptly off the floor, Chris began to pace, "It's not…it's…I…"
Remaining where he was sitting, Leo looked up at his son, "Chris? What is it?"
Coming to a stop, he turned on his heel to look back at his father, "Mom stopped me, before. And at the time…" Chris' voice trailed off. "But I'm still…it's like…something inside me has switched off." At Leo's puzzled look, Chris tried to explain, "I don't care about this conflict between us and the mortals anymore. I'm starting to think maybe Kate and Riley had the right of it. Hell, maybe even Sheridan is right – there is no place for us to live side by side in peace. Maybe we all need to pick sides. And my side is my own."
Leo gaped at his son in astonishment, unable to believe what he was hearing, "Surely you don't mean that?"
"Don't I? Look at everything we've done. Everything we've sacrificed. And what do we get in return? Fear. Hate. Death. Les shouldn't have died. There was no cause for it. He died because of hate. Because of fear," Chris refused to meet Leo's eyes. "I've lost so many people…family…friends…Bianca…" Chris' voice dropped to a whisper, "I don't think I can stand to lose anymore…"
"Chris," Leo placed a gentle hand on Chris' shoulder. "Son. You can't give up now. Listen to me. You'll get through this. Like you did with…everyone else. We're so close – so close to changing the past and fixing your future. You got to stick with me." Leo placed his other hand on Chris' opposite shoulder, trying to instil in his son the faith Chris so clearly needed to feel, "We're going to fix this. You'll see. But until then, I need you to stick with me." He waited for Chris to respond, prompting, "Okay, buddy?"
A pause, and then, almost reluctantly, "Okay."
Leo closed his eyes thankfully before popping open as Chris began to cough uncontrollably. Supporting his son, Leo reached within himself for his healing power. As the gentle golden glow illuminated the room, Leo could only watch helplessly as Chris drew in painful breath after painful breath. When Leo's healing had done all it could, Chris stumbled over to the nearby couch to collapse in exhaustion.
"It's getting worse," Leo croaked, unnecessarily.
Chris nodded tiredly, "I know." He swiped at the corner of his mouth, grimacing at the streak of blood left behind on his sleeve. He looked up to see Leo watching him in concern, saying simply "I know."
To be continued….
A/N: Congratulations to Team Canada, World Junior Hockey Champions! You've done us proud.
