Like a Thief in the Night

For the last couple of years, it was quite common for Chris to calmly wake in the middle of the night and stroll towards his boys' rooms, just to look in on them as they slept. This nightly ritual was partly the result of a growing parental instinct, and partly just to make sure that he hadn't dreamt the entire fatherhood experience. As Shane had said earlier that night, "We've all gotta be something," and above everything else, Chris was a father. Throughout his life, he had always searched for something, some quality or characteristic that would make him stand out and give him a sense of purpose. As fate would have it, that purpose was searching for him.

"Riley?" Chris's heart began to race as he looked at the empty spot on the bed next to him, where his oldest son had been sleeping. (Rider...) As if by reflex, he jerked his head around to check on the other. To his great relief, he found Rider sleeping soundly, snoring "like gravel in a blender". (Phew! Okay, so that's one…)

(My ring!) Chris raised his left hand in front of him. The emerald on the ring that connected him to his boys was neither illuminated, nor flashing, signaling that Riley was both alive and (physically) unwounded. But, this was Chris. What are the odds that he was just gonna let this go?

(Okay Chris, keep it together. He probably just had to go to the bathr-) His attempt to comfort himself was interrupted by a young man's deep sobs, coming from the dimly lit hallway. (What the…?)

Chris leapt up off the bed and flew into the hallway.

Just outside of the bedroom, Chris found his son curled up on the floor next to the wall, hugging his knees and rocking himself back and forth, crying openly. "Riley?" he said cautiously, kneeling down next the trembling young man.

He carefully placed a hand on Riley's shoulder as the boy continued to rock back and forth. Riley jerked slightly at Chris' touch, as though he'd been unaware of his father's presence, but rather than turning around, Riley dropped his head forward, curling himself tightly into a shivering ball.

Keeping his hand on Riley's shoulder, Chris asked, somewhat abruptly, "Riley, what's the matter?" (Oh MAN, I suck at this) he thought to himself, trying to push himself past any icy reserve. The fact that Riley said nothing, but continued to weep, only worsened his nervousness. However, his voice did sound surprisingly comforting when he said, "Riley, son, I need words, okay?" as gently as he could. (Oh that's just great, Chris!), he scolded himself. (I'm sure that's just what the boy needed to hear!).

"Dad, I didn't do it." Riley managed to say, though he kept his head curled inwards. "I swear I didn't do it. Please, you've gotta believe me!"

Chris dragged himself closer to his son, until he was kneeling right beside him. "Didn't do what, Riley?" he asked, softly but firmly. "What didn't you do?"

"You have to believe me." Riley quietly moaned. "Dad, I promise! I wouldn't... I would never..." but his sobs arose and overcame him.

"Riley, I believe you," Chris began. "But... I need you to stop crying…" (God dammit, Chris! This is not about you.)

Chris then sat himself down flat on the floor and carefully pulled Riley's arm up out of the cradled position and placed it over his own shoulder and around his neck. "Here… Come here," he said. It was the warmest his voice had sounded in years, and it couldn't have come at a better time. "Come on," he quietly urged, and pulled the young man towards himself.

Riley allowed his head to fall against his father's shoulder, and let his body fall limp as Chris held him closer. Chris began to slowly rock backwards and forwards, leaning his own head comfortingly against Riley's. (Huh… Maybe I can do this after all).

In Chris's eyes, this, the realm of emotions, is where Rider and Riley differed the most. It's not that Rider had some sort of Shane-esque (or Chris-esque for that matter) difficulty expressing his emotions. Rather, it was the depth to which Riley felt emotions in general, and the degree to which he allowed things to affect him. He seemed to go about life, keeping himself wide open to whomever and whatever came toward him. The older Riley got, though, the more Chris came to understand that that was just who Riley was, and nothing and no one would ever change that.

Chris had often joked that his sons' mother would be easy to spot; she'd be just like Riley, and nothing like himself. The brothers closer to him in age, namely, Wyatt, Rory, and Shane, agreed that Riley was much the person Chris would have been had his first life not "hung onto him" more tightly than he realized. Piper and Leo would come to hold the same belief. As Piper once said to her husband, "Those same feelings must be locked up in him somewhere, otherwise he wouldn't freak out every time Riley, Heaven forbid, actually felt something." As with most things, where parenting is concerned, Piper had hit the nail squarely on the head.

"Dad, I promise," Riley repeated, over and over again, as his tears wetted Chris' t-shirt. "I didn't do it…"

"Shhh.." Chris said in a whisper. "Riley, whatever it is, if you say you didn't do it, that's enough for me… but I need you to tell me what's wrong."

"Dad, please…"

"Riley, listen to me." Chris sounded as though he was speaking to a much younger child, but it seemed to come both easily and naturally. "Whatever it is, it's gonna come out sooner or lighter, right?"

Chris felt Riley's head nod against his shoulder.

"Did you rob a bank?" asked Chris, hoping that maybe a pinch of humor would help Riley feel safer. "'cause I'll just have to tell the judge the bank needed to be robbed."

It sounded like Riley tried to chuckle, but it only brought forth more sobbing.

(Okay… Feelings are Rory's department… What would Rory do? … Crap! Rory would let him cry 'til the middle of next (censored) week…Okay then, what would Jared do? ... Damn, I'm gonna be here a long time.)

Chris mustered every last ounce of patience he had, allowing Riley to settle down a bit, before saying. "Riley, come on... Tell me what happened."

Riley sniffled and took a long, deep breath. "I didn't kill her, Dad, I swear."

Chris squeezed his eyes tightly closed; he knew what was coming.

"I didn't kill Mom."