Charmed: The Return

Disclaimer: See Chapter One.

Summary: After their parents' deaths, the Charmed Children moved on with their lives. Now they return home to where it all started and back to the world, they turned their backs on.

Chapter Seven: Distress

In this time of substitute
It's my needs I've answered to (All the while)
And the hope that I invest
Still turns to signals of distress (All the while)
 Collective Soul; "Needs"; Charmed: The Final Chapter Soundtrack

That night no witch at 1329 Prescott Street slept well. The events of the day were still ringing in their minds as they placed their heads on their pillows. The Book, the decoys and to some unrelenting thoughts of certain witches, the lies within the family. Wyatt tossed and turned as his mind replayed everything in his past that would atone for his newfound behavior.

By seven o'clock, the sun was shining brightly and the outside temperature already rose to over sixty-five degrees. Another hot August day was abound. In the kitchen of the pink Victorian, a sleep deprived Allison and Christopher were making coffee. Instead of the usual six cups, they made ten.

"I don't think I can do a tattoo properly today. I'm too tired and too stressed." Ali said as she took a seat at the table and sipped her scalding hot coffee.

"Are you kidding me, I don't even think I'd make it through my analysis today. I have a set of remains needing my expertise and I can't even open my eyes all that well." Chris moaned as he skimmed an article about his case in the paper and groaning at the unflattering photo of him. It was a photo taken months earlier at an excavation. He looked like he weighed a few hundred pounds because he had on a parka and scarf for it was freezing out that day. He was still in grad school and not even known at the time. The caption so eloquently read: Dr. Christopher P. Halliwell, forensic anthropologist, will be conducting an analysis of the 'Basement Remains'.

"What are we going to do about the Book?" the youngest asked no one in particular as Rose and Rachel entered the room.

"I can't even think about that right now." Rachel said as she filled a coffee cup for both herself and her sister.

"Why not, it would be the most pressing thing in our lives." Ali said.

"Not when your paper was broken into, and there are a lot of damages and two employees quit yesterday after the break in." Rachel vented as she took a deep sip. Rose was rummaging in the fridge prepping a lunch for herself. She was dressed in her blue scrubs and was getting agitated.

"Rose, hon, is something the matter?" Rachel asked.

"My yogurt is gone." she said in agitation, as Ali looked down at the vanilla yogurt she was devouring. "Oops." Rose looked up and glared at her angrily.

"Where's Wyatt, this morning?" Rachel asked as she saw the headlines on the paper. Both photos of her and Chris made the front page...good for the paper, bad for them.

"He fled like way early this morning. Something about meeting, and clients and something. I don't know, I wasn't paying attention." Ali said as she continued to eat her cousin's yogurt.

"When do you ever." Rose muttered and no one heard.

"I still want to talk to him about this lying thing he has going on." Rachel said.

"It's Sam, we can pry it out of Sam!" Chris said.

"You won't get it out of me alive." Sam said as he entered the kitchen, still in his pajamas, after all he was unemployed.

"Whatever. Sam, while the rest of us are at work, can you go to Magic School and talk to the Elders and start researching possibilities?" Ali started on her brother.

"Not a problem. I have to run a errand and meet Wyatt for lunch then I can do it."

"When did you and Wyatt get so chummy, chummy? You two hated each other growing up." Rachel pointed out.

"We're starting over." Sam said. His eyes catching the glances of his sister and cousins. "Well, I got to go shower." and with that Sam turned on his heel and as he turned white and blue orbs took over and he was gone.

"You could have used the stairs!" Ali yelled at the ceiling. "The last thing we need is his personal gain affecting us." she said to no one in particular.

Doctor Rose Dean walked briskly through the halls of the surgical floor. Her lab coat billowing as she stepped with prideful strides. She was on her way to meet with her resident. Each intern is to report to a resident and do as he or she asks and confer with them on every case, as well as present the patients to the surgical attendings at Grand Rounds.

"Ah, Dr. Dean, nice of you to be on time." her resident, Dr. Harris said to her as she approached him. The two other interns were waiting along side of him. 'I'm not even late." she said in her defense.

"On the contrary, Rose, it's 8:01, you were supposed to be here at eight o'clock." he said with authority. "I'm sorry, that I'm a minute late." she said with remorse and anger.

"Dr. Stevens, you will be assisting me today in surgery. Dr. Katz, you will be covering all admits and chart work for the surgical floor. And you, Dr. Dean will be covering the ER." he doled out assignments.

'Yes." the three said in unison and went their separate ways. Rose walked down the hallway to the elevator she exited out of minutes earlier and headed down to the ER. When she arrived downstairs she was not shocked to see the ER overly busy with patients. The doctors and nurses were scrambling around doing their day to day activities. She walked over to the admit desk and sought out the desk clerk. "Harry, are there any surgical cases?" she asked the overweight man behind the desk.

"Yeah, Lola has one in exam room six." he said as he glanced at the admit board. Rose nodded and headed in the direction of the exam room.

"Hello, Lola. Surgical?" she asked as she saw a doctor tending to a patient. Doctor Lola Holt was a bright woman in her early thirties. She had flowing red hair and piercing blue eyes. She was tall and thin and looked tired. She wore green scrubs under her white lab coat.

"Hey, Rose. How are you?" she asked, trying to make small talk. "I'm good, and you?"

"Tired. I'm into my twenty-seventh hour and so far this morning we've had two critical traumas. You covering the ER today?" she asked as she jotted down the patient's vitals onto a chart.

"Yeah, what do we have here?" She asked as she looked over Lola's shoulder at the chart.

"Darren Becket, age twenty-eight. He presented with abdominal pain and a mild headache. Ultra sound shows bleeding in the duodenum, and some esophageal tearing."

"Good morning, Mr. Becket. I'm Dr. Rose Dean, I'm a surgical intern. How's the pain now?" she asked as she reviewed the chart.

"Call me Darren, please. It's still painful and a little uncomfortable."

"Understandable. I'm going to set you up for an exploratory surgery to check for any more bleeding and then we'll have the surgeon fix you right up." she smiled as she wrote something down.

"How long until that happens?" he asked.

"It's hard to say. It depends on how fast we can get you into the ER and how much damage there actually is, and we need to isolate the bleeding."

"Will I be out by three?"

"Excuse me?" she asked confused.

"Will I be out of the hospital by three?" he clarified.

"Unlikely. You might be out of surgery by then, but you would need to stay at least a few days for post operative recovering and observation."

"Oh, can you call my sister please?" his eyes pleading.

"Of course, what's her name?" Rose asked as she took out a memo book out of one of her pockets and opened to a new sheet.

"Phoebe Warrensworth. 555-8797." Rose stalled. That name was too familiar to her. It hit her in the heart with the weight with a weight of seventy men.

"Dr. Dean, is there something wrong?" Lola asked as she noticed Rose's hesitation.

"No. Sorry about that." she said as if nothing was bothering her and she wrote down the information and signed the chart. "Have the nurse give him 10 of morphine for the pain and call the OR to prep a room." Lola nodded.

Rose left the room in a hurry. Phoebe Warrensworth. How ironic is that, she kept telling herself. Her mother's name was Phoebe and the name Warren was a former family name before changing several times and it was the last name of her ancestral grandmother, the head of their line, the witch in which her and her family's destiny was foreseen. The start of this mess, she swore to herself in her mind and as she went on her way.

Sam Montana drove through the city to Fisherman's Wharf, where he was to meet Wyatt for a quick lunch and 'discussion'. He hoped he wasn't overdressed. He had no idea what kind of restaurant he would be meeting Wyatt at, after all, unlike anyone else in his family he didn't have the money to spend on things such as meals. His trust fund ran dry after years of heavy partying and drug use. He parked his car outside of Provence, the restaurant. It looked classy. He could see Wyatt's vehicle parked and abandoned. Sam got out and pulled his black blazer over his white oxford shirt and smoothed out his jeans and inspected his black boots, which he wore with practically everything. He walked forward and entered the restaurant. He could see the lunch crowd was heavy and had a very glamorous appearance and he berated himself for wearing jeans. He spotted Wyatt at a table overlooking the bay and headed in his direction. Wyatt, dressed in a blue suit, white shirt and pale blue tie was looking at a menu.

"Hey." Sam said as he pulled his chair out and sat down. Wyatt smiled and closed his menu.

"Now, I invited you for lunch, so here's the rule. Read the food, not the prices." Wyatt warned, as he waved over the waitress. The waitress was a medium height woman most likely in her early twenties with blonde hair and brown hairs.

"Can I start you with anything from the bar?" she smiled with a perkiness Sam found really attractive.

"I'll have a glass of red wine. And you, Sam?"

"I'll have a diet Coke with lemon, please." Sam smiled at the waitress, who jotted down the order and went on her way.

"Sam, how much does everyone know?" Wyatt asked with a serious tone.

"Nothing, other than the fact that I know you're hiding something and that you're lying to them."

"But you never said anything to them about what it is, right?"

"Never. I wouldn't do that to you. Growing up we had our huge differences, but I would never put you in an uncomfortable position."

"Thank you." Wyatt said as he opened the menu and began to read again. Sam doing the same. The waitress came back with the drinks and bread. "Are you ready to order?" she asked.

"I'll have the NY sirloin, medium-rare please, with the mashed potatoes and ranch dressing for my salad." Wyatt said, and she wrote. "And you, sir?"

"I'll have the roasted chicken, with the potatoes au gratin, and ranch as well." he smiled. "Certainly. And my name is Senna, if you need anything." and Sam just smiled.

"How's the group session going for you?" Sam asked Wyatt.

"Good, I never thought I would be comfortable there, but it's been rather helpful." Wyatt smiled.

"And your sessions with Dr. Keller?"

"Really good. She is awesome, and again, I feel so comfortable around her. She gave me a prescription for Zoloft, and for lithium for my bipolar disorder."

"Zoloft, isn't that an anti-depressant?" Sam inquired.

"Yeah, she thinks it would help me. And I trust her." Wyatt smiled.

"Good, I'm glad. But you need to tell the family."

"I'm scared too. There is so much they won't understand. I've struggled with everything for so long and I was always by myself and now I have a family system to go to and I'm scared. If that makes any sense."

"Of course it does. I was so nervous when I had to tell you about being an alcoholic and former junkie. I didn't want you to think I was any less because I had problems, especially at the party scene. I didn't want to be looked down on because I'm in AA and did time in rehab."

"That's why I told you, you know."

"What, why? Because you knew I had problems myself?"

"No, because you wouldn't judge me and you know what it's like to struggle with something that is out of your control."

"I wouldn't say that. I mean I controlled how much alcohol I drank and how much blow I snorted. I just didn't tell myself when to stop, until it was too late."

"But you know what I mean. You struggled and you're fine now. And I want to be like that too."

"Trust me, Wyatt, you'll be fine. Once you tell them the full truth. They'll understand."

"I hope you're right. I hope you're right." Wyatt said as the salads were brought to them.

I hope you liked this chapter. I decided to take a break from the magical problems and focus a bit more on their personal mortal problems. I hope this gives an inkling to what is up with Wyatt, and more about him and his 'problem' to come. It's not ever yet.

Provence, is a restaurant name I invented, if it's real, I didn't know that.

Senna, is an odd name my computer came up with. It's pronounced like "Jenna" but with an S.

Damien455... PS: REVIEW PLEASE!