Disclaimer: Blah blah. Not mine!
Chapter Six: Promise
November 16th, 2003. Unchanged Future.
Chris woke up with a jolt, arms reflexively snapping out to protect himself. Instead all they did was nearly shove him to the dusty floor of P3's back office and his shelter for the moment. In the dim, secondhand light of the club, it took him all the longer to claw his way back to reality. The reality of where and more importantly when he was. It was only a moment longer before the default bittersweet feeling descended over him.
It never got easier. He would have thought the months he'd spent in this time would have put some emotional distance between the horrors of his home. You would think... and still. He woke up every single day expecting to open his eyes to some rubble clogged dugout, some halfway fallen in building, terrified awake by the sound of magically augmented drones clawing at the walls. Eventually his brain would catch up and the images of dust clogged holes were replaced with cheap promotional posters and paperwork. The sounds of drones became nothing more then the janitor scraping furniture across the floor.
When he'd first arrived in the past, that realization that he wasn't there anymore, that he didn't have to worry about all that... it was the single most freeing thing he'd ever experienced. He'd wake up each day invigorated and smiling, thinking that this was the day he'd stop it. This was the day he'd find the one responsible, and he'd never have to go back to that again.
Day by day, though, the feeling wore thin. Every hour that ticked away without finding a scrap of good information was another ten pounds of anxiety squeezing the hope out of him. Every hour lost was a narrowing of the time between the bright world he had the luck to be in and the dark future that it would become. He began to dread that feeling he'd get when he woke up. Like the universe was taunting him.
...and then Bianca had died. Now the best thing about his day was the confusion of waking up. Because now, every time he woke up and thought he was in the past, at least he thought she was alive, if only for a moment.
Chris lied there numbly, reclosing his eyes again and steeling his thoughts. He didn't dare mourn her, that would mean he'd given up. If there was one thing he knew about her, it was that she'd kick his ass if he even thought of doing that. He had to remind himself that she wasn't really dead if he just changed everything. Someday in this new, brighter, future, he'd get another chance with her. He just had to believe he could do it.
Some days it was just so damn hard.
He recognized the weakness as it took over and he didn't have the strength to even put up a fight. All he wanted right then was to see her again, he didn't think he could wait another 20 odd years even if he got the chance. Dreams and nightmares still clinging heavily on his mind, Chris reached out with his whitelighter senses, searching out the presence that had always seemed to be there, ever since he first met her. He expected the empty blackness... but what he did feel made his eyes snap open.
Bianca was alive...
He was orbing before he even gave it a proper thought, rematerializing in the blinding daylight of the outdoors. Chris winced, tossing a protective hand up over his eyes, peering through the gaps in his fingers and waiting for the scene to take focus.
It was a playground. He shouldn't be here.
Chris's mind barely had a second to catch up before he noticed the uncomfortable shift in the air signaling someone shimmering behind him. The shallow prick of a blade was at his back a bare moment later.
"What are you doing here?" A crisp voice asked, dark and deadly cold. Chris dared a look back, catching sight of a blonde head of hair and a face he'd only seen in pictures.
"Lynn." Chris muttered in realization, almost forgetting about the athame at his back. Lynn fixed that by pressing the athame a fraction farther in, the tip slicing the material of his shirt.
Chris looked around at the nearly abandoned playground, surprised that she was being so forward with her threats. He soon realized why. The place was neatly fenced in by privacy fences and tall bushes, the only intruders on the obviously well protected space were a group of children playing across a stretch of grass, totally oblivious.
"Answer the question." Lynn stated coldly, "Why are you here?"
"I don't know." Chris answered honestly, almost bitter.
"Bad answer."
Chris lurched forward before she could plant the athame in his back and whirled around, "Look! I just thought someone was here. I was wrong, alright?"
And he knew it. He was wrong to be here. He'd come chasing a ghost on some drowsy, lovesick hope that Bianca had achieved the impossible. Instead, he was meddling with the past again, he should just orb out and be done with it. Still, there was that tug in the back of his head. She was here... somewhere across that field. He kept his eyes firmly focused on Lynn.
Lynn stared at him placidly, "Bianca...you're looking for Bianca."
Chris just set his jaw.
"What is she to you?" The Phoenix pressed, deciding his silence was answer enough.
"Nothing," Chris lied that time, "This was a mistake." He stepped back, hesitating in his orb just long enough to give Lynn a chance. Her hand came down on his shoulder in a split second. She stared him down, eyes intense.
"I saw you two," She said eventually, "You were in my apartment. I saw how you looked at each other. She came back from the future for you. She didn't kill you, although she obviously should have. Don't lie to me boy. She wouldn't tell me, but I am no idiot. That was far from nothing."
Chris tensed, something in the edge of Lynn's voice hitting a familiar chord, and it only took a minute to decode it. Like mother, like daughter. She was just like Bianca, putting up a facade of complete infallible deadliness to cover up something else.
Lynn was afraid.
The Phoenix read Chris' expression easily and dropped all pretense. She asked the thing she'd wanted to know since she saw him appear.
"Is she alive?"
Chris's reaction said it all, and the Phoenix slackened just enough to allow him to step a safe distance away. He should leave and, yet again, he couldn't. There, standing in front of him was the only other person in existence who could possibly understand how he'd felt that past week. The sisters tried, they really did, but they were still under the impression that Bianca had died evil. He'd never bothered to correct them simply because he didn't want to relive it.
Lynn's fists balled up and she forced herself to look out at the field. Despite all his effort to the contrary Chris followed her line of site, following that bright sense to where a dark haired girl had stopped mid play to stare at them with sharp eyes.
And that was all it took.
"I'll fix it." A said it and meant it, not because of any new sense of conviction or bravery, but simply because it was true. He didn't have another choice. He didn't flinch at all as Lynn looked at him with newly angered eyes. He met them without fear, inspiration striking him. He buried his hand back in his pocket instinctively, fingers pulling out a small loop of silver. He held it out to Lynn, jaw set. She just stared at it like it was something deadly.
"What is that?" She asked darkly.
"A promise," He said evenly, "She isn't dead. Not yet, and I will keep it that way. This is my promise to you and her. It belongs to Bianca and it always will."
Lynn glared at him, but it didn't scare him anymore. Chris knew that she was banking on him being right just as much as he was. As much as it was killing her, this all was out of her hands, and she just had to trust him. That was that.
In a flash, Lynn snatched the ring from his hand and inspected it.
She clucked, "Kind of cheap, isn't it."
Chris choked out a laugh before stepping back and orbing out.
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November 16th 2027, 1:00
Bianca twisted the ring around her finger, far past the point of trying to stop the long time habit. She prided herself on being in rigid control of most things but she recognized a losing fight when she saw one. It wasn't too bad of an offense anyway. It was the only tell she had, and few people knew how to decode it because she barely understood it herself. It was an instant stress reducer. A few twists to remind her it was there and the world lost its terrifying edge.
Plus it was a nice distraction if someone was say, spying on her. Which there very much was.
It was the displacement in the air that made her curious. Something simple as a breeze wafting past where it definitely shouldn't have. That could be easily explained away. She was in a drafty attic, random air currents just happened sometimes. Really though, it was the dust motes that tipped her off. Even though she felt the air move around her the glowing bits of dust in the light beams stayed deadly still, not moving to the air currents whatsoever.
It was a telltale sign of an illusion... and a very good one.
Bit by bit, she picked the room apart, trying to find the spots where things didn't quite move how they should and narrowed the illusion down to a space that could neatly hold one five foot three witch... and it was hovering daintily over her shoulder, looking at her.
The assassin textbook said very certain things about just such a scenario. Several, actually. Step one usually had something to do with grabbing said spy and step two related to removing vital organs. All very messy, especially when the target in question was invisible. Despite her aptitude at it, she'd never particularly liked killing, as a matter of fact it usually made her feel very, very ill afterwards. Then again... she really didn't like snoops.
Once second Bianca was unnaturally still, the next she'd lunged straight in the invisible girl's direction, coming just short of her, eyes unblinkingly staring her down.
Melinda yelped despite herself, the fear bursting the illusion like a soap bubble, colors shimmering all around the room. For a minute, they just stared at each other, neither quite willing to let the other see any apparent weakness whatsoever. Bianca just slowly settled back into a more natural seating position and Melinda casually attempted to cover the fact that she'd nearly ran screaming out of the room to hide behind Wyatt.
"Nice tattoo." Melinda said, forcefully gulping down any unacceptable vocal tremors. Bianca didn't bother to try to cover up the Phoenix birthmark on her wrist. The girl obviously already knew. Instead, she just shrugged.
"Family tradition."
"Hm," Melinda's expression shifted to mock disinterest, "Guess you come from a pretty alternative family, then?"
"You could say that." Bianca deadpanned.
Melinda resisted the urge to gag. As much as she'd ended up going a little left of her own family model, preferring the mortal world, and all the inherent skill in double speak and careful white lies that came with it, she really didn't exactly like the deception. She wasn't the cloak and dagger type, it was just too complicated and twisted for her tastes. She preferred the elegant approach and sometimes... elegant meant that she'd be better served to change tactics.
Time to take a page from Wyatt's book, blunt and honest.
"What do you want from us?"
Bianca's return look was more than a little abrasive, "A chair wouldn't hurt."
"Let me rephrase," Mel pushed, not amused with the older woman, "What do you want from my brother."
Melinda didn't know what she'd expected, but the sudden softening in her expression wasn't it. In that spare second her defenses were completely down. That, or she was a very good actress. The latter being equally possible. Any girl who was good enough to fool Chris would have to be.
Then, just as quickly, they were back up, arrogance taking over every inch of her body, all except the subtle twist of the ring around her finger.
"Mel."
The two women twisted to look at Wyatt, hovering in the doorway with the look of someone who'd been thoroughly snubbed. He sent a meaningful look at his sister and crooked a finger in the direction of the hallway.
Melinda didn't even bother covering up her sigh before she pulled herself up to stand, heels guiding her in Wyatt's direction.
"Don't go anywhere." Wyatt cracked a fake smile at their house guest and tugged the attic door shut soundly behind them. Mel continued past him, getting out of hearing distance before Wyatt caught up. "So? What did you find out."
Mel pinched her lips together, wondering how to go about this. To explain what she'd seen. More importantly, how to keep Wyatt from blowing a twice blessed gasket.
Despite the Sister's explicit orders to leave Bianca to them, Wyatt wasn't about to let a potential demon lurk around behind their backs, especially one he was sure had hurt his brother. In his opinion, you just don't get away with things like that, mother's orders or no.
He'd never believe that Chris would be in a relationship with the woman. Hell, Mel was having a problem believing it.
"What..." Wyatt nudged her in the arm, well aware that she was stalling.
Mel just winced, "Well, she's not a demon."
"Bullshit."
"Really!" Mel cut in, pointing to her wrist, "You know that tattoo? It's actually a birthmark which makes her part of the Phoenix Coven. She's a witch... just a... slightly demon flavored one."
Wyatt frowned, arms crossed, "Demon flavored..."
Mel shrugged grandly.
"Still makes her evil, then, doesn't it?" He nodded, face turning resolute, "I'll go get Excalibur."
"No, no no!" Melinda forcefully grabbed his arm, digging her heels into the floorboards to keep him stationary. Wyatt just turned a confused look at her, seriously considering just dragging her along down the hallway, hooked to his arm.
"What? She's not evil then?" He snapped.
Melinda hesitated a second too long and Wyatt turned back around, pulling her along easily even as she leaned all her weight into stopping him.
"Wyatt! Stop!" She whined, "There's something else!"
The twice blessed rolled his eyes and grudgingly halted. "She's evil! She nearly killed Chris, and she's probably working with that other demon too! I don't see what could matter." Then he turned back in the direction of the attic, done with the conversation.
Mel's heels skidded across the floor and she eyed the carpet bunching up in front of her. Now or never. She tipped her head back and yelped.
"He loves her!"
Wyatt halted, halfway down the hallway, jaw hanging like it wasn't even connected. He turned back, attempted a few word before he stuttered to an awkward, nonsensical end. Mel released his arms, pulling her fingers into a steeple over her mouth.
"At least I think he does." She added lamely, voice muted by her hands. She slid them away nervously. "I mean, it looked that way..."
"Not possible," Wyatt shook his head, "Chris would have... I mean. When would he even have the chance to...He doesn't keep secrets!"
Mel crooked an eyebrow.
"Okay, fine. He doesn't keep them from me."
The younger Halliwell just watched dumbly as Wyatt paced up and down the hallway, mind obviously racing. Mel couldn't help but do the same. Each trying to reconcile their own images of their brother with this new information.
"It's a spell." Wyatt said abruptly.
Mel shook her head, "It really didn't look like it."
"Fine," Wyatt tossed his hands up, "Then she seduced him."
Mel shuffled back, face scrunching, "First off, ew. Don't ever put those images in my head again. Second, do you really think Chris would fall for that? He's memorized the Book back and forward, he'd have ID-ed that birthmark in a second."
Wyatt glared at the wall.
A large thud and a crash from the attic sent the two of them running down the hallway at breakneck speeds, Wyatt gesturing the door open even before he reached it. They stopped a few feet in, eyes immediately drawn to a crumpled form on the floor, bare inches away from the still trapped Phoenix in her magic cage.
"Let me out!" Bianca practically growled, hands sparking as they touched the electric bubble around her.
Wyatt stood stock still, blocking the doorway and keeping Mel behind him and carefully gaging the situation. The newcomer, a girl probably young enough to still be in high school, didn't exactly look threatening, as a matter of fact she looked nearly dead. Then again, a bright red mark stood out, painfully obvious on her shoulder, a direct copy of the one on Bianca's arm.
He looked up at Bianca, fighting the immediate urge to heal first and ask questions later, "What happened? Who's she?"
Bianca shook her head sharply "She's just a kid Halliwell and she's hurt. Either let me out or heal her!"
The girl shifted on the floor, mumbling inanely before she curled around herself more. Bianca's gaze shot from the girl to Wyatt. If he didn't know better, he could have swore there was an edge of something in her expression, almost a plea.
Wyatt didn't move.
The caged Phoenix seemed to darken, eyes narrowing to slits. In a burst of motion, Bianca's hands shot out and clamped impossibly around one of the warding stones. Lightning arced around her ferociously but anyone could see that it was lessening, the bright magical light of the stone disappearing into her hands until finally there was none left.
Wyatt saw her shimmering the second before she did and shoved Melinda back out into the hallway just in time for Bianca to shimmer back beside him, athame a hairs breadth away from his throat. The room fell still, the only thing moving were the dust motes.
"Heal her." Bianca commanded.
With a flick of the wrist that closed the attic door, sealing Mel on the other side, Wyatt snorted.
"You could have asked nicely."
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1:15
"Oh dear, oh dear..." Mrs. Donovan fluttered back and forth, hands fretting at her cheeks. The library was absolutely choked with dust, loose pages still drifting down from the upper levels. This was the first time in a very long time she could remember being able to see from one end of the library to another, and it wasn't due to any sort of creative decorating, it was because a book shaped hole had been punched through every shelf from the entrance to the demonic flora section.
The librarian squeaked pitifully.
Chris and Leo turned in near unison to pin Phoebe with identical looks of blame. The Charmed One shrank, hands pinned over her mouth.
"Ohmygosh. I am so, so, so sorry!" Phoebe winced widely, not sure how to console the distraught librarian. The woman in question just nodded, slowly, still staring through the hole in the shelf in front of her. Leo patted her on the shoulder wordlessly.
Chris scratched his cheek lightly and leaned to look through the neat line of holes, "Well, I guess it won't be that hard to figure out where the book came from."
Phoebe perked up, "You mean your book."
Chris's return glare wasn't fast enough. Mrs. Donovan had already picked up on Phoebe's words.
"Why Christopher, I wasn't aware you wrote a book!" She looked from him back to the carnage, a small finger pointing from it to him, "Your book did this?"
"I didn't write it!!" Chris almost yelled, tired of saying it. "I would have remembered that!"
Leo sighed in his direction, and pushed the book into Mrs. Donovan's hands, "Have you seen this before?"
She stared at it, frowning at the pages, as she flipped through, changing the binding and covers for any other identifying marks, "I'm afraid not. I would have remembered a text of this caliber. This book is near genius, good job Chris!"
"Not my book," Chris sing-songed temperamentally.
The click of heels made the small group turn around just in time to see Piper Halliwell enter the scene, hands hovering dangerously close to her blowing up position.
"Okay, so all the kids are safely in the—WOAH! What happened here?"
Phoebe bounded over to her sister and hooked a stalling arm around her shoulders, "Chris wrote a book."
Piper snapped over to look at him, "You wrote a book?"
"No I didn't." Chris dropped his hands to his sides audibly and stared beseechingly up at the ceiling, "How many times am I going to have to say that..."
"It's really quite complicated." Mrs. Donovan ignored him, offering the book to a confused Piper. She took it gingerly, fingers pulling at it like it would eventually explode. With each page flip, though, her mouth dropped open wider.
"Holey moley," Piper commented, eyes wide, "You aren't kidding. What the heck does polychronatic supplefication mean anyway?"
Phoebe peeked over Piper's shoulder and whistled, "Dude, I don't even know how to pronounce that word."
Soon, all four of them were hovering over the thing, attempting to figure out what any of it meant and how many points the words would count for in scrabble. Outwardly, Chris maintained a look of complete and utter deadpan annoyance, arms securely crossed. Inwardly... he wasn't quite as disintrested. The four of them tossed out words, bits of equations, and various names, each one catching his attention more than the last.
He hadn't written it. He would have remembered... but it didn't change the fact that most of the things they were saying were actually making sense.
There'd always been an idea in the back of his head that science and magic could go hand in hand, and the more he listened, the more it seemed right. The way the modern day theories of quantum mechanics seamlessly intertwined with magical theories on portals... well, it just made so much sense.
Reluctantly, Chris stepped back over to where his family was clustered around the book.
"Can I see that for a second?" He winced as Phoebe cracked a smile at him.
"Sure! It's your book." She twisted the tome and held it out.
"It is n-- You know what, whatever." Chris grabbed the thing and fanned through the pages, catching chapter titles, each one more interesting than the last. It took almost all of his self control to wrench his attention from it, instead he turned to the trial of holes leading back to the corner of the library. He recognized that corner of the library. It was where he always sat... where he had been sitting this morning and where he'd seen that crazy guy the first time. Instantly, something snapped into place.
He'd been trying to put away this book.
Chris eyed the broken spine of the book and tilted the book to its side, letting the book open to the most used chapter. The chapter title was in bold: "Paradox Windows. Affecting imbalances in time and guiding magical selection of specific time lines." Chris suddenly felt sick to his stomach as he read further.
"...We're screwed."
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A/N: Apologies for this being a few days late. I had an opportunity to get an interview at Sony and I had to get my flat art portfolio into shape in time... and well, when Sony asks for something, you just gotta drop everything and get to it. At any rate! Here's the chapter. Thank you all for reading and please, please review, it's been a hell of a week and I honestly could use a few review shaped hugs.