Disclaimer: Not mine... not quite sure who owns it these days, but more power to them.
Grab a sandwich cause this one is a doozy. Also prepare for Emo!Chris. Don't worry, he gets over it.
Chapter Five: Wibbly Wobbly, Timey Wimey.
November 16th, 2020. Unchanged Future.
Chris never thought he'd see the day when the Whitelighters gave up on the world... but it seemed appropriate that they'd do it on his birthday.
He'd grown accustomed to the background noise that was the whitelighter chatter, even dared to like it sometimes, when he gave in to a moment of nostalgia. He could remember that feeling comforting him to sleep on the bad nights when his mother would be out fighting demons or when Leo took Wyatt off for special twice blessed meetings. He'd convinced himself that the feeling was his father, watching over him even if he couldn't spare the time to be there.
What a load of crap that was.
That hum was nothing more than a small inlet of the overworld version of the collective unconscious. A joining of minds no more meaningful than a handful of people who happened to be waiting at the same bus stop.
If Leo had actually made any point of reaching beyond that base connection, even spared a glance once in a while, the Elders would have taken Wyatt seriously when they had a chance. They would have bound Wyatt's powers the minute he started letting demons live without explanation. When he started muttering to himself about power. When his first charge died.... When their mother was murdered by a suspiciously well informed and all too prepared demon. When Wyatt didn't respond to Chris' calls as she quietly bled out on the floor... When Wyatt finally showed up with a nearly insane grin on his face...When Wyatt had locked Chris in the basement for six months until he "came to his senses."
It took a whole year for them to take Wyatt as a serious threat, and by that time he'd already killed the Cleaners and outed magic to the whole world.
The new witch hunt followed after that, starting right in the heart of San Francisco. The mortal hunters teamed up with Wyatt's demons and witches to wipe out any and all witches who refused to give up the "old ways" as Wyatt had dubbed them. The fringe covens went first, then the larger families.
Eventually, he and Wyatt were the only Halliwells left.
...and only then, did the Elders get concerned. Chris had heard whispers over the connection. Whispers of horror and alarm. Deliberating, constantly deliberating never deciding, on what to do.
They whispered the word back and forth between each other, wondering if they could do it. Vanquish him, they said. But who was left to do it? All of the witches, their pawns, were dead. They didn't even know where to start.
Unfortunately for them, Wyatt could hear them too... and he knew exactly where to start.
If Chris knew anything of Wyatt, and he felt he was the only one left who did, the Twice-Blessed wouldn't allow the threat to loom. He'd act. Violently.
He supposed he shouldn't have been surprised when that connection abruptly and brutally snapped, dropping the world into utter silence. He should have been prepared for the eventuality. Yet he wasn't.
The silence was excruciating.
The 16-year-old half Whitelighter collapsed to his knees into the dusty remains of a library, dragging his fingers across the remaining brick wall in a bid to keep standing. He felt the dirty mortar ripping into his hand but the pain just blended into the paralyzing ache.
"Jesus Christ, kid! You alright?" A voice, dimly familiar, drew him out of the silence, forcing him to quickly adapt to the sudden empty spot inside of him.
"Was he hit?" A old female voice chipped in, cracked from years of smoking, "We gotta keep moving if we want to make it to the bridge by sundown."
"I'm, eugh..." Chris attempted but ended on a graceless grunt as he attempted to push himself up the wall.
An hand dropped on his shoulder, dark skinned and sympathetic. Chris traced it back up to the owner, a middle aged man named Marco. Two others stood behind him, an elderly woman and her emaciated godson, barely out of college.
Chris forced himself to connect with them, even as the damned blackness of loss sucked at his shoelaces. They were his companions du jour. Just people he'd ran into and traveled with for a time as they attempted to get out of San Francisco as fast as they could. He hadn't asked about them and they returned the favor. Though their dinner conversation had made their view on magical beings brutally clear. Chris didn't let it get to him, he was used to it.
Those who accepted Wyatt's rule believed that if magical creatures couldn't be controlled and regulated, they were to be hunted down. Those who didn't accept Wyatt's rule hated magic just as much, blaming them in entirety as being responsible for their current situation.
Chris had learned to lie early on. Now he was Chris Perry, a good old naturally unmagical American boy. He didn't even know the difference between an athame and a butter knife and couldn't rhyme if someone bought him a thesaurus. Nothing to see here, move along.
"Hey, Perry, speak up boy!" Marco rattled his shoulder again even as Chris slid back down the wall. He'd sunk back into that blackness where his whitelighter senses had been, drawn in again by a shimmer of something. He mentally reached for it, desperate for any connection at the moment.
It was a very, very bad idea.
Just as soon as he made the connection, he jumped back from it, both mentally and physically, scratching across the wall in his haste to get out of the place he'd been in.
"Run." He breathed out the word.
How could he be so stupid?! Who was the only whitelighter still on this plane?
Marco stared at him, confused, but sympathetic, "C'mon kid, we should get you some rest."
"No!" Chris shoved him away as the older man reached out to help him up, sending the older man tumbling back. "You don't understand. Leave now."
The three mortals traded looks quickly, weighing the possibility of him being crazy versus actually surviving some kind of attack. After a beat, they took off in random directions, scuffling across loose rock. They weren't nearly quick enough.
The demons shimmered in, circling them in perfect military fashion.
"Well this was something of a pick me up," Wyatt called as the black orbs receded, leaving him standing just ahead of them. Chris noted, even as he tried to figure out some kind of exit, that Wyatt seemed to be beaten up worse than he'd seen in a long time.
He had to struggle down any long since used fraternal worry for him, waiting to ambush him and keep him from thinking straight. It'd been years and he still had troubles differentiating the Wyatt from his memories with the current, tyrannical version.
Marco and the other runners skittered back closer to him, trying to put as much space between themselves and the eldest Halliwell. They hit the brick wall next to him and stuck, seeing no way out.
"Well?" Wyatt raised his arms and smiled as if asking for a hug, "What, nothing? Nothing at all for your favorite brother? Come now, Chris. It hasn't been that long."
Chris felt the other's eyes on him, brains slowly connecting the dots, already aware that their stares had turned to animalistic stares of betrayal. He barely felt the loss. It was just three more drops in the bucket.
He pushed himself straighter and sent Wyatt a glare that would have killed a lower level demon, "What did you do?"
Wyatt tipped his head and looked down at himself, blood and bruises everywhere. He didn't seem concerned in the slightest. "You mean this? Just a little fight."
"A little fight?" Chris yelled, unbelieving, "You killed them all! I can't sense any of them!"
A flicker of annoyance graced Wyatt's face before melting into something so much more devious.
"I didn't kill them...all." Wyatt said deliberately, "They chose to cut themselves off. To leave us lowly earth dwellers on our own."
Chris felt it like a punch in the gut, "You're lying. They wouldn't abandon us."
Wyatt's face was stone still, "It was dad's choice."
Chris shook his head forcefully, not capable of coming up with a good argument. They wouldn't do that. Leo wouldn't do that. He might have been neglectful but he was never cruel. He wouldn't leave a whole world to suffer like that.
"He didn't even ask about you." Wyatt continued, running his own glowing hands down his arms, healing himself. Another perk of being the Twice Blessed. He turned his attention back to his brother, twisting the knife, "This is what I've always tried to tell you, Chris. Leo was never a good father to you because he was so absorbed with that idiotic neverending Good vs. Evil war. This is what I'm trying to prevent. The war has ended. No more good. No more evil. Just existence."
"...and power." Chris finished, sagging against the wall.
"And power." Wyatt nodded.
"What do you want from me, Wyatt?" Chris looked up, feeling suddenly boneless.
Wyatt just shook his head lightly, "I just want to bring my brother home."
For the first time in years, with the ache of the realization that everyone he loved was dead or gone, Chris felt himself breaking down. Would it be so bad, just to go back where he could be Christopher Halliwell again and not just poor defenseless Chris Perry? Where he could be with the one person he had left? Loved in whatever twisted way Wyatt could offer anymore...
"Chris," Wyatt reached out a hand, "That's all I want. Let's just go home. I need you."
Liar... but what choice did he have?
Chris stared up, eyes focused steadily on Wyatt's.
"Let them go first."
Wyatt seemed to consider for a moment before nodding and again, pushing out his open hand. In a moment he'd blame on temporary insanity later, Chris took it. As the orbs took them away, Chris caught the edge of the demon's orders.
"Kill them."
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
November 16th, 2027. 12:00
The dread in Chris's stomach turned into quicksilver rage.
"Why, time, of course." he'd said, like it was the simplest thing in the world, "And I'm going to set it back to the way it was."
"Over my dead body." He practically growled the words, and lashed out with all the power in his possession, supplementing his lack of energy with the white hot rage that had curled itself around his spine. The man shot across the foyer like a bullet, pinned to the wall so hard the wood bowed dangerously against the pressure.
...and then the man had the gall to laugh. At least that was what it sounded like. His face was smashed against the wall only allowing the sound out in sharp squeaks.
"What do you find so funny?" Chris deadpanned, glaring.
"Puh--" The man squeaked out, still giggling, "Poor choice of words."
Chris pressed him harder in retaliation, "Weird, I don't seem to like your humor."
In a split second, he was there, the next he wasn't, setting Chris drastically off balance as he appeared in front of him again. That weird tense feeling in the air warned him just as the man's outstretched fingers nearly reached him, making his heart jump in his throat.
He didn't want to know what would happen if that man found skin contact, but he didn't want to try it out.
In the spare second between contact Chris used his telekinesis to push himself back and out of reach, skidding him backwards roughly into a wall.
The pale man stared, confused, hand still outstretched.
"How did you do that?"
Chris shrugged, "Talent?"
The man's eyes narrowed, "Perhaps."
"Alright, fine," Chris pushed himself up against the wall, limbs feeling heavier by the moment, "So I get you don't like me. Whatever. Could we cut to the why, please?"
The man hunched, looking as annoyed as his face would allow, "You changed what should have not been changed." He spoke, irritated, "It must be set back. This place, these people are pieces, out of place. You, though, you are the hinge of two times. You are the dead walking."
He pointed rigidly at him, "I fix that. I fix it all."
Chris did not like the sound of any of that.
...come to think of it, he couldn't hear much at all.
Not the ambient sounds of the world, not the neighbors clamoring over their hedges to see what the newest disturbance was, not the elders whispering up a storm in the back of his head... not his family.
Chris looked over in a rush, eyes widening as he saw his family all frozen, mid step, angry looks on their faces as they stared at the place the pale man had been standing in moments before.
"...freezing doesn't stop Witches." Chris said aloud.
"Chronokinesis does." The man supplied, voice edging on proud.
"and yet it didn't stop me..." Chris added, regarding the man suspiciously.
The man's eye twitched.
"Perhaps I should go about this another way," He said finally, "I have twelve hours. If one can't get at the hinge... perhaps they should attack the door."
Chris snorted, "You should really find a better metaphor."
"It won't matter in a few hours anyway." The man bowed shortly and the air thinned again, taking away the tense feeling Chris hadn't even realized was still there. In the space of a blink, the man was gone, leaving Chris leaning heavily against the wall and the rest of the Halliwells looking around the room for him, utterly confused.
Piper gaped, fingers pointing vaguely between the empty space she'd last seen her son in and where he now was.
"What the hell was that?!" She barked out eventually.
Chris just sighed and sunk back down the wall, "That, was a future consequence."
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
The man hadn't been expected a challenge.
He hadn't had one in so long, he almost didn't know how to react. He depended so much on his magic that he'd never even attempted an honest fight before. He didn't know why the meddler was immune and he didn't have the time to care. What he did know was that, that it was highly unlikely he'd win a fight against the witch.
If he continued on his usual course, he'd most likely be injured... and he didn't want that at all.
The man paused, mid-thought as he felt time shiver. It was unstable, unsure. He could sympathize. He'd have to keep his powers to a minimum until the witching hour, and no more transporting, the last time had nearly caused a full on earthquake.
He'd have to do all this the old fashioned way.
The man closed his eyes and felt out the turns of time, tracing mental fingers along the lines until they traced back to what he was looking for.
The Halliwells were the first that came to his attention, but he quickly disregarded that idea. Too dangerous and too little of a payoff.
He searched again. Someone out of the way. Someone unsuspecting, but influential.
He stopped and smiled thinly. There. A whole group.
If he set that many souls back on course, time would have no choice but to reset itself. He sensed their prior destinies, and found what he was looking for instantly.
They were all supposed to be dead.
Years ago, he would have felt pity for them. He wasn't slowed by that inconvenience anymore. With a renewed sense of purpose, the man set his course.
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
12:15
"You can't keep ignoring me."
Piper looked up at the dark haired Phoenix, securely wrapped in a crystal cage, with a look that was so beyond sarcasm it was scary.
"This is my house, and I can do whatever I want in it." Piper informed her, voice so calm it was almost friendly. Friendly, that was, until she made a point to scoot a bright purple vanquishing potion in Bianca's view.
It was only Bianca's considerable pride that kept her from skittering back like a spooked animal. Despite Piper's obvious maternal charm that made her a natural Halliwell matriarch, Bianca found her scarier than anyone or thing she'd ever met.
"I thought you said you wouldn't kill me." Bianca said carefully, eyes caught on the small vial.
Piper nodded, closing up a box containing several dozen potion vials. Their emergency, do it all kit, for those occasions where you just didn't know what you were dealing with. Which they very much didn't at this point as the book had come up with nil on their pale stranger.
The eldest remaining Halliwell rolled her gaze over at the Phoenix, brown eyes calculating, "I said we weren't going to jump to any conclusions. That doesn't mean I trust you."
"You don't trust me? Fine. Trust Chris." Bianca said bitterly, "Just talk to him for a second, he'll tell you I'm not going to hurt anyone."
Piper paused, mouth turning downward slightly, "Chris doesn't know you as well as he thinks." She barely spared Bianca another glance as she tied off the last two bags. Then, as if she hadn't said anything mildly weird, Piper flashed a winning smile, told Bianca to make herself comfortable, and left.
Bianca just stood there, stewing in her frustration for a minute. Her fingers twitched at her sides, carefully guided emotions coursing through her veins. She was surprised at herself. A full fledged Phoenix had no emotion. Bianca liked to pretend she was full fledged sometimes, but that emotionless had always been her downfall. She'd never been able to cap those feelings off, and right then, she was feeling some things she'd much rather do that with.
She'd expect to be angry, scared perhaps, and she was, but there was an undercurrent to it all. She was disappointed in Piper... and incredibly discouraged. She and Chris were depending on the assumption that the Halliwells would be more accepting. If this was what the easier half of the equation was going to be like, the other half would likely be murder and then their whole plan was shot to hell.
Bianca let out a long calm breath and closed her eyes, "Chris," she said to thin air, "A word?"
She never thought she'd see the sight of someone orbing reluctantly, but that was sure what it looked like. The blue lights were sluggish, coalescing into her boyfriend and he looked way worse for the wear. He met her eyes for a second before he quickly wrenched his head to the side, as if burned by the sight.
Bianca just watched, out of her depth, as he seemed to struggle with himself, gradually bringing himself to look back over at her. He let out a tense breath, letting the tension seep out of him before he gestured quickly and sent one of the crystals skidding out of formation breaking the cage with an electrical jolt.
Bianca stepped over the threshold hesitantly, stepping up in front of him, trying to intuit what exact had him so out of character. She didn't get a chance, because as soon as she was within arms reach Chris tugged her into a spine tinglingly deep kiss. When he finally pulled back, her eyelids fluttered girlishly, despite her every intent of being serious for the next few minutes.
"That," Chris said after a second, leaning his forehead against her, "Was for saving my life."
"In that case, I don't even think that half covers it." She raised an eyebrow in mock indignation..
Chris grinned and ducked down for another quick kiss, "As much as I'd love to. I'd rather not have to worry about my mother having any small chance of walking in."
"Probably a good idea," Bianca rolled her eyes, "It'd be awkward when she comes back to vanquish me."
Chris snorted a quick laugh, "She isn't going to vanquish you."
"She made a potion." Bianca glared up at him, half serious.
"Don't take it personal. She has one for everything." He shifted a bit and looked at the vial still sitting conspicuously on the table. With a slight look of annoyance, he waved a hand and orbed the potion into the grand canyon where it smashed pleasantly on the rocks below.
"Better?" He added.
Bianca faked considering it, "Hm. The air of doom seems to have lifted somewhat..."
"Yeah," Chris smirked, "Don't get used to that in this house."
Both of them tensed and broke apart as the thumping sounds of footsteps on the stairs reverberated through the floor. Bianca almost laughed at the automatic reflex. The secrecy seemed kind of futile now, their secret was pretty much out as soon as someone took the time to look hard enough. Still, it didn't stop them from waiting silently to make sure no one walked in.
A few anticlimactic moments later, the two relaxed.
"I have to go," Chris sighed eventually, pressing the heel of his palm against his forehead before he turned back to her. He remained silent for a second, choosing his words carefully, "If you see anyone other than Mel or Wyatt... Just, be careful. Don't underestimate anyone."
Bianca frowned, able to read more into his words. Chris had always seemed to know that well wishes were more of an insult than anything, and he only used for times when he thought it was needed. He knew full well what she was capable of, and the fact that he felt the need to say it... well, it just wasn't a good sign. Suddenly she didn't like the idea of letting him out of her sight.
Instead, she just set her jaw and nodded slowly, "You too."
Chris stepped in and caught her lips again for a deep, bittersweet kiss, fingers whispering across her jaw for a breathless moment before he forced himself to step away.
"If you need me..."
"I'll call." Bianca finished his sentence sarcastically, shoving him lightly, "Go and be a good guy already. Don't know why you're being so dramatic."
Chris just rolled his eyes and orbed out. The minute he did, Bianca sighed, the smile fell off her face. She looked around on the floor until her eyes caught on the wayward cage crystal, picking it up.
"Back to captivity..." She sighed and stepped back into the circle and gingerly dropped the offending crystal back into its spot. Once again locked in a four foot diameter circle, Bianca felt suddenly martyred. She rolled her shoulders and eventually settled down on the floor.
Across the room, silent and wrapped in her own illusion of invisibility, Melinda Halliwell was feeling very... very confused.
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
1:00pm
"I can't do this." Leo slammed the cover on his book shut and shoved it across the table, wedging it between his inbox of term letters and nudged an old picture frame holding the entire crowd that was the current Halliwell family. It had taken them sixteen attempts to keep everyone from blinking and then another three to realize Patricia had wandered off to play with her new puppy. Leo reflexively straighted the frame out and scooted it closer to the others.
"Don't let your students hear that." Phoebe smirked and flipped a page
Leo stared at her a second, the comment taking a second to register, "What? Oh! No. Not researching." He hurriedly commented before sinking back down into his chair, "It's not that, it's... well, you know."
Phoebe quirked an eyebrow.
"Chris..." Leo finished lamely.
"Ah, yeah. That." Phoebe nodded sagely, closing the book in front of her around a bookmark in favor of staring wistfully at the ceiling.
"He remembers, you know."
Phoebe tried really hard not to lurch from her chair in surprise, so it turned out as more of a half hearted jerk, "He told you?"
Leo just shook his head, "No, but I can tell."
They didn't need to say the words to know how true that was. Phoebe didn't even need her empathy to see it. She would know the difference from the very first time that guarded expression dropped on to his face, closing off any hint at the depth of emotion in him and replacing it with pure and bitter business.
The silence dragged, research forgotten.
"Have you..." Leo asked abruptly.
"What?"
He shrugged, and made a gesture at his head in a vague hint at her empathy powers, "Looked?"
Phoebe squinted at him suspiciously. It had been a long time since Leo had ever condoned using her empathy on a family member. Phoebe didn't even use it on her own daughters. There lied a fast track to insanity. Leo was usually the very first to understand that. He was the only one who'd had anything similar, back when he was a whitelighter. Privacy meant a lot, and he was the last to try to get around it.
Leo shifted in his seat uneasily, sensing her line of thoughts, "It's just," He sighed deeply, "He hasn't said a word to any of us, hasn't looked at me or Piper in the eye. Well, you know how he can be when he gets upset."
"He bottles it up," Phoebe nodded, getting where he was going with this. "You think he's mad at you."
Leo just nodded glumly. It'd been a major point of worry in the household about what they were going to tell everyone about Chris's little escapades through time. After many, many debates they decided that it was all or nothing, and since they didn't fancy the idea of telling Wyatt he was the ruler of all evil, it would just have to be nothing.
It had been the only secret Phoebe had ever managed to keep a lid on in her whole life, not that she hadn't really wanted to spill it. The only thing that had kept her from it was how Chris would probably react when he found out. She had a feeling he'd be livid. The kid had enough issues growing up and she didn't feel like being the cause of more of them.
The door of the office opened and the two adults jumped like they'd been caught at digging through papers at Watergate. Chris stood in the doorway, another stack of books in his arms and a suspicious look on his face he could only have learned from Piper. His eyes danced between the two of them for a second before he slipped to the side and deposited the new books on the table.
"No, I'm not." He said without explanation.
"No, what?" Leo tensed, knowing exactly how hard it was to get through to Chris when he was angry.
Instead, Chris just rolled his eyes, "No, I'm not mad at you for not telling me. If I'd had the forethought I would have told you to keep it from me in the first place. Believe me, I'd rather have not known."
Leo practically melted into his chair in relief. Phoebe wasn't quite so convinced. Her psychologist senses were tingling something awful. As much as the boy said he wasn't mad, he was lying though his teeth. She slid the book off her lap and sidled over to him, watching him shift books in to piles, movements sharp and annoyed.
"Honey," She patted his arm soothingly, "You want to talk about something?"
Chris slammed a book down noisily, "Not really."
"It'll make you feel better!" Phoebe pressed.
"I'm fine."
"Really? You look kinda mad..."
"No kidding," Chris glared, dropping the last ancient looking book in place, "Why would I be mad? I don't know, the fact that I thought I was done with this? That I'd finally achieved something I thought worth dying for, and let me tell you, dying is not fun. Now some freak of a demon walks in and gets the idea to reset things? Great! No reason to be mad about that! Oh, and did I mention that these memories are giving me the biggest headache I've had in either of my lives not to mention it keeps making me see some really messed up stuff when I look at any of you guys. You want to try to explain to Wyatt why I can't look him in the eye? If you have any ideas, I'd love to hear them cause I have no fucking clue."
Chris forcibly snapped his jaw shut and glared at the far corner of the room letting the room soak in the awkward silence.
"That really..." Leo started, slightly shocked.
"Sucks? Yeah." Chris shrugged sharply, he looked over at his family and rubbed a thumb across his forehead, attempting to push the headache back. "I just... I can't let it go back to the way it was. I don't think I could bear it, not after I know how it could be."
"We won't let it." Phoebe rubbed his arm soothingly, an understanding smile spreading across her face, "We're not starting at square one this time. We know what we're up against and we've got tons more books to work with."
Chris allowed himself a small smile at the mountain of books in front of them, "Yeah, seems like Mrs. Donovan took that Google comment to heart. Now all we have to do is actually read them all."
A dark silence settled on the three of them as they eyed the ridiculously thick tomes Chris had brought in. Time travel was so wobbly of a subject that it could give a person a headache simply by association. Reading about it for hours didn't seem like a pleasant idea for any of them.
Then, as if a light bulb came on over Phoebe's head.
"Google, huh?" She mused, fingers quickly reaching across Leo's desk to grab at a pen and paper. A few quick scratches and four lines later, the middle Charmed sister was looking decidedly smug.
"Phoebe, personal gain..." Leo said warningly.
"Hey!" She flicked the pen at him dangerously, "I want to keep this life just as much as Chris does and every second that guy is out there is another second this whole thing could go to hell in a hand basket... Besides, it only a little bit of personal gain." She tossed a look at Chris for backup and he simply shrugged. He'd said his piece on the subject. Leo merely let out a small worried sound before putting his hands up in defeat.
Phoebe grinned, pleased, and straightened out the paper to read.
"Uncover truth that which once was lost
Discover what must be found
On ships of knowledge memory tossed
Contained in pages bound."
Chris crossed his arms, amused, "Been taking poetry classes?"
"You like it?" Phoebe grinned girlishly, before casting about the room expectantly. None of the books shifted, not even a single page flip. The two boys pinned her with expectant stares. Phoebe wilted, "Okay, so it didn't work."
Right then a book shot right through Leo's office door, sending oak chips flying like dangerous splintery confetti before the tome connected solidly with Phoebe's stomach, knocking her clean off her feet.
Chris tried, very very hard not to grin, but inevitably failed. He and Leo moved from their spots to stand over the downed Charmed One, book sitting harmlessly on her chest. Phoebe merely grunted shortly.
"Personal gain." Leo said unhelpfully. Phoebe chucked the book at him in response.
Chris tugged on Phoebe's waving hand, pulling her to her feet slowly, "I thought you got all the time travel books!" She winced.
"I did," He shrugged, "I pulled every book in that section."
"Well, ya missed one," She rubbed her stomach sorely, letting go of her nephew in favor of her own footing. As soon as she did, Leo's pulled her over next to him, forcing the book back into her hands.
"Look," Leo pointed, voice thin.
Phoebe looked at him, confused, opening up the plain cover to the first page... and nearly dropped the book.
"Oh oh oh!" Phoebe danced in her spot like a five year old who refused to use her words. "Chris!"
"What now?" Chris sighed.
"You," Phoebe pointed again and then held up the book for him, "Look, look, look."
Chris stared at her like she'd gone insane but eventually his yes focused on the small print.
"What in the..."
There, in plain letters on the first page.
'Chronokinetics. By Christopher P. Halliwell.'
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A/N: First off, to any reviewer who didn't get a response, I blame ffdotnet for not forwarding them to me. Now I can't remember if I responded to who or not and that's terrible. So! I deeply apologize for not responding to you if I didn't, if I did...well, sweet.
Also, nope, you did not miss something. I took the week off last week to concentrate on finals. I could have attempted to throw something together in time but it would not have been fair to you guys or to the teams in my classes. Good news is I finished both the films I was working on (one animation and one actual film) and am free for...uh, just this week. So, horray.
Lastly, the credit for that spell rests solely on my dear friend Kat Morning to which I am a mere poser in comparison. Seriously, go look up her stuff, she's here on ffdotnet.
In retribution for the missing week, the next couple chapters are gonna be crazy long. Lots to say and so little time to say it. Cheers y'all! And please, please keep the reviews a'coming they make my day so happy you have no idea.