December 12th 2025
"Okay, so, say you are in a hostage situation, arms bound, stuck on a chair. What are you supposed to do?"
"Stall until you figure out an escape plan," Melinda said, earning a nod of approval from the witch looming over her desk.
"And when we stall, do we lie?" he asked, looking her in the eyes, eyebrows arched. Melinda only barely managed to stop herself from rolling her eyes.
"There are like ten other people in this room," she said with a wave of her hand. His gaze didn't waver. Melinda sighed; "We don't lie," she said, clicking the ballpen she was holding between her fingers. "We don't know what kind of powers our abductor may have and we don't want him to know we are being dishonest. We go around the truth."
"Very well."
Melinda lowered her head, pretending to write something on her notepad. She unleashed a string of swear words on the first line of her page, breathing a little easier once she was done. These classes were starting to drive her crazy.
"Question," she heard Matthew say from her right. "Why the hell are we getting quizzed about hostage scenarios, when we can't even get out of the banker?"
Melinda peaked at Chris from under her lashes, reveling at the annoyed expression on his face.
"He has a point," Anwen pipped in. "Shouldn't we like focus on finding stronger protective wards for the safe houses or I don't know, brew some potions for the people who are allowed to go on missions?"
"No, no, that's actually equally boring," Matthew said, "But thanks for trying to help. I was thinking more along the lines of; just let us go on a mission already!"
"Okay, do you wanna know why it's important to go over these scenarios?" Chris asked his tone of voice still perfectly even. He stopped walking in front of Melinda's desk and the girl felt her stomach plummeting to her feet. "It's because we know that you are all breaking the rules; we know you go out to the hunting zone even though you are still not of age-"
"You promised you wouldn't say anything!" Melinda hissed at him.
"You could have gotten hurt!" Chris shot back. Melinda smashed both her palms on her desk, jumping to her feet.
"Well, I w-wouldn't have br-broken your precious ru-rules, if you'd taken me wi-with you wh-e-en I asked!"
"Guys!" Wyatt's voice stopped whatever Chris was about to say. Melinda was panting, her heart beating thunderously inside her chest. Her whole body was shaking as she looked into Chris' eyes. He looked equally enraged, with his jaw tensed and his arms crossed tensely over his chest.
"Can we just try to calm down?" Wyatt, ever the mediator, said resting a hand on Chris' shoulder. "I know how boring these classes can be, but there's a reason why no one under the age of eighteen is allowed to go on a mission..."
Melinda couldn't even listen to Wyatt. She couldn't take it anymore; she couldn't be in this room any longer. She had to get away. Swiftly she spun on her heels marching to the exit, not bothering to collect her stuff.
Melinda needed a moment. Just one tiny little moment to recollect herself. Of course, she'd orbed out the moment she recognized their voices. She found herself hiding behind a door, her heart in her throat as she heard the two women talk so casually with Chris. Casually, may be an over-exaggeration; he'd sounded positively lethal in the one sentence he'd thrown out. But before she had any time to ground herself again, the telltale sound of orbing filled the room and then Chris was standing in front of her.
"I think we have a lot to talk about," Chris said and the calmness in his voice, made her stomach tighten. "Don't you?"
"Yeah, I guess we have," she agreed, fingers wringling together.
She licked her lips, trying to think of some way to get out of this mess. Chris' eyes seemed to be following her every move, which only made her more anxious. Still, he didn't make a move to get closer to her, rooted by his place next to the window. Melinda avoided his gaze, taking a few steps towards the bed which laid between them.
"Okay, you want me to prove that you can trust me," she started, fidgeting with the hem of her sweater. Chris remained silent, just staring at her. "Yeah...Right, okay..." she moved her weight from one foot to the other, contemplating what she could tell him. "Okay so...I think it's safe to say that neither of us is from this time, right? And before, when we..." Melinda stumbled over her words, not particularly wanting to bring up the fact that she had attacked him "...I was in your mind long enough to know there are no Whitelighters left in your present. At least none at my age, so I'd assume-"
"You're from a parallel timeline?" Chris cut her off. Melinda only briefly looked at him, before nodding. "That's not good."
"I know, it's decidedly not good."
"Why should I trust you are being honest?" he asked, an unamused expression taking over his face.
Melinda shifted her weight again, her hands getting red from the force she was putting on rubbing them together. She had been in his mind long enough to know that Chris had grown up alone; no aunts, no cousins, no support system other than Leo and even he didn't seem to be in the picture any longer. She let a shaky breath out, as the beginnings of an idea started forming in her head.
"Because we are family?" Melinda said, daring another look to his face. She noticed his shoulders straightening as if she'd said something interesting, despite the lack of change in his expression. "In a parallel timeline, we are family... I can prove it to you."
Chris remained silent. Melinda felt the tension inside the room growing so thick she'd swear she could cut it with a knife. She intertwined her fingers pressing tightly, already doubting her decision to tell him anything resembling the truth. Before she had a chance to completely second guess herself, Melinda covered half the distance to where he was standing, stopping by the end of the bed. She lifted the sleeve of her sweatshirt, turning her wrist so he could see.
"My siblings and I got this a couple of years ago; it's an anti-possession ward," she said, brushing her thumb over the triquetra on her skin, resting atop her veins. The sigil shown blue as it pulsed, then red and finally a deep purple. She heard Chris' sharp intake and she bit her lower lip; "You felt it right? That was my brother's magic."
Yeah, I don't think that's exactly how one goes around the truth, the familiar little voice snarked inside her head and Melinda refrained from acknowledging it; this was not a hostage situation.
"How did you get here?" Chris asked, the magic of the sigil still burning his wrist.
He was not going to think about the implications of what she'd told him. This was an interrogation; breaking face in front of the suspect was generally frowned upon. Oh, but Christopher, his voice crowned, do you realize what this means? She isn't just a Halliwell, she's our – Chris shook his head, as if to clear his mind. Not that his voice ever really left; at this point it was like a permanent feature.
"I fell through a portal," the girl said, after giving him an inquisitive look. Chris' eyebrows reached for his hairline on their own volition at the incredulity of her words.
"And it just happened to be lying about?" he asked sarcastically. Her left eye twitched, like she was about to give an eyeroll, but she must've stopped herself.
"My present is... a little bit complicated," she said and started pacing left and right, like she was trying to work out her nerves.
"Elaborate."
"I don't know how much I can tell you without risking to change everything."
She was right, of course, but that didn't stop Chris from wanting to know as much as he could about her. There was still a part of him that didn't quite believe Wyatt hadn't sent her. But the girl was definitely at least part-Whitelighter and she was right; there weren't any Whitelighters left back home. Plus, he had definitely felt the magic surging through him, when she'd activated the ward which could only mean-
No, Chris was not going to go down that road.
"I know you don't trust me," she spoke again, dragging him out of his thoughts. "And you have every right not to. But I do; I trust you and I just need help to get ba-back to muh-my f-family."
Chris' stomach twisted at her words, at her earnest trust. Once again, she'd caught him by surprise. Her eyes were huge and pleading as she looked at him. His skin still burned over the spot where the tattoo was supposed to be resting. Oh, Christopher tsk tsk tsk, your sentimentality is positively sickening!
"I guess helping you is going to get you out of my way sooner than if I let you fend for yourself," Chris said offhandedly and she audibly gasped; despite her trust in him, the girl hadn't expected him to help her. He didn't know why, but it stirred an unpleasant feeling inside him.
"But we can't do it right now, because I have to take care of something."
"Okay," she agreed quickly, nodding to herself. "Anything I can help with?" She offered.
"Ugh, no; first of you are twelve and second you look exhausted."
"I'm seventeen," she mumbled mostly to herself, her voice offended, but Chris didn't dignify it with an answer.
"Okay, can you follow me?" Chris asked and without really waiting for an answer, he orbed out.
He reappeared inside his little bedroom at P3 with only a second to spare before she was there. He orbed some of the trash which was strewn on the floor in the trashcan underneath his desk and added a whispered cleaning spell for a good measure. It didn't make much of a change, but at least there was room for her to walk and the place didn't smell like stale coffee. Once he was done, he looked up to find her standing awkwardly by the door, her hands stuffed in the pockets of her jeans.
"I could've done that," she said bouncing on the balls of her feet.
"I don't want you doing any magic right now; we don't need anyone finding out you are here," he said dismissively, in the coldest tone he could muster. She still looked out of place and Chris was starting to get uncomfortable as well.
"Thank you," she said, her voice small.
"I couldn't let you stay in the Manor; they already know about me and somehow I don't think adding one more 'future child' to the equation is going to help with not messing up the future," Chris explained. She looked up at him timidly, before quickly tearing her gaze away.
"Yeah..." she trailed off, scrapping something on the floor with the sole of her shoe.
"Okay, I'm going to go-"
"Take care of your something," she finished off for him, offering him a small smile. Not knowing what else to do, Chris simply nodded.
"Hey Chris," she said just as he opened the door to get out. He stopped mid step and looked at her over his shoulder; "My name is Melinda."