New chapter post! I hope you enjoy! I just bought my first house and I have a lovely front porch perfect for coffee and writing... I hope to be able to update a bit more often, we shall see. Thank you for the reviews, I love hearing everyone's thoughts, comments and critiques. Read on...
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The tension in the anteroom to the Elder's formal chambers was so thick Brody thought he could squish his fingers through it if he tried. Looking around, the area was packed with more whitelighters than he had ever seen. I guess they have some special enlargement charm on this place, he mused as he was jostled through the crowd. Brody had seen the world almost end at least a few times now, but never had he seen the entire heavens filled with what seemed to be every single whitelighter in existence.
The overlarge, gilded doors swung open to reveal nearly a dozen, serious-faced Elders. Studying their tense faces, he felt pride and relief for telling them to shove those gold robes up their asses when he demoted himself back to a mere whitelighter all those years ago, which, upon reflection could explain the cruel irony of his Halliwell assignment. His musings turned to shock though as he realized standing with the Elders were the Angels of Destiny. One of which stepped forward, clearing her throat as the others repositioned themselves around her.
"Thank you all for answering the summons," she began, magically controlling her voice so it sounded as if she was speaking to each whitelighter directly. "An unprecedented event is taking place in our world," she continued, but Brody shortly stopped listening to the flowery, overly-adjectived preamble.
He caught quite a few 'epic proportions' and 'catastrophic consequences' thrown into the speech and wondered how long the other whitelighters' attention would hold. Surely it couldn't be that difficult just to stand up and say 'hey, one of those damn Halliwells went back in time and epically altered history and now we have to deal with the catastrophic consequences' and just be done with it? Brody was startled out of his thoughts when he heard frantic whispered conversations start popping up from the crowd.
"Wait, what did she just say?" He asked the young whitelighter next to him.
The woman looked at him, eyeing him like she thought he was a particularly nasty spider, "Get comfortable."
"Why?" Brody continued, the woman looking more exasperated.
"Because, they're putting us to sleep?" She paused, then continued, seeing Brody's persistent confusion. "The Elders decided it was best to allow us to regain access to memories from this other timeline all at once, rather than the slow progression like everyone else."
Brody gaped at her, then looked up at the Elders in disbelief. The entire heavens was covered in the bodies of whitelighters, peacefully laying down to have their minds jacked with. Maybe I did join a cult after all, Brody thought wryly.
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He knew Eta was here, he'd tracked her this far. Brody took a deep, calming breath, focusing his whitelighter senses on the energies around him, waiting, feeling, reaching out. He slowly opened his eyes, someone was coming, but it wasn't Eta. Suddenly, he saw a young man, perhaps not even beyond his teens, his blond hair slightly disheveled, striding purposefully into the chamber.
"Okay, Eta," the young man spoke into the darkness. Ah! He was looking for her too Brody realized, quickly he decided to take a chance, if the boy was an Avatar he had a potion and if he wasn't, well, he could handle that. The boy turned on him before he'd even finished moving, eyes flashing with power and malice. Brody realized too late, he had gravely underestimated the being standing before him.
He threw his hands up in the universal sign of surrender, "Sorry, I, I, just," Brody tried to look casually around as he spoke and slowly edged away from the boy, but he was thrown against the wall and held in place by an invisible force. He started to orb, but was blocked, and rematerialized in place. The boy's eyes shone with excitement and Brody wasn't sure if he felt terrified or relieved.
"You're a whitelighter," the boy said flatly and then paused, letting the silence grow.
"Stop it Wyatt," Eta said, appearing in solid form, walking towards the boy. She faltered though when she saw Kyle, her eyes sweeping over him, scanning for any sign of the potion he was rumored to have.
Wyatt noticed her hesitation, he turned his head just enough to acknowledge her, but refused to take his attention away from Brody. Kyle swallowed nervously, eyeing the Avatar and the boy, Wyatt, who had him trapped. "Now why would I stop Eta? Unless, of course…" Wyatt suddenly dropped his hold on Brody, grabbing Eta around the waist and giving Brody the opportunity to strike.
Brody didn't disappoint. Without even taking a breath, Kyle had the precious potion out and thrown at Eta. He watched as the black smoke furled into her nostrils, her mouth, her eyes, destroying her from the inside-out.
The boy laughed.
Kyle Brody tossed a bit, moaning, unable to wake up from the Elder-induced sleep.
"Wyatt, I've tracked two more Avatars," Brody began.
Wyatt, leaning over a table, scattered with maps and handwritten notes, glanced up quickly, then back down to the map he was poring over.
"The Avatars are not our concern right now, Kyle," Wyatt said in that particular way he had, so calmly yet every syllable pregnant with threat.
Brody wasn't about to back down though, he hadn't become Lord Wyatt's most trusted advisor by sitting back and blindly following Wyatt Halliwell. No, he'd spent the last three years by the young man's side helping his cause, helping him build a new world beyond good and evil, a world the Avatars could never build, despite all their false promises, by speaking his mind and following his instincts.
"I know Wy…"
"Damn it Brody! Not right now." Wyatt interrupted. "I've had another tracker go missing and my brother's damn 'resistance' just killed two of my best fighters in a skirmish yesterday." Wyatt slammed his fists onto the table.
Brody didn't flinch, just a curt nod and a quick turn to walk out of the room. Before he got very far though, the building shuddered slightly, a quick succession of expansions and contractions rippling through and around the walls. Wyatt, looked around, hands up, ready for anything.
"No, no… he can't, he couldn't…" Wyatt stammered.
Cracks began forming in the wall, ice-blue light shining through, then suddenly two figures appeared.
"Devren! Now!" The dark-haired young man shouted. Brody spun around to see a darklighter take aim and shoot, his arrow finding its way into a shocked Wyatt's shoulder. The witchlighter began TKing the furniture in the room to create more confusion until another figure appeared, a woman carrying something large and limp.
"I got her! Go, go, go!" The woman shouted before shimmering out.
Wyatt yelled out in pain, as the darklighter poison began working through his bloodstream and sending Brody into action. Kyle leapt over the fallen table, orbed the darklighter's arrow away and began healing Wyatt. By the time he looked back up, Devren and the witchlighter were already gone.
"Damn it," Wyatt ground out as he sat up, rotating his shoulder. "They got Kat."
Brody had no idea how long he'd been out, but he slowly opened his eyes, the bright light around him almost as painful as the dizzying cacophony of memories fighting for space in his mind. He sat up, some of the whitelighters had already disappeared, others were still completely unconscious and others, like him were looking dumbly around, in shock. He took a breath, exhaling loudly as he tried to make sense of the flood of emotions and memories.
"Well, shit," he said before orbing away.
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"I'm coming, coming," Paige grouched as she made her way to the door. Opening it, she was surprised to see her oldest nephew standing outside, looking haggard. "Wyatt! God, you look rough. Get in here."
"Gee, thanks Aunt Paige," Wyatt tried to smile. "Terrible headache," he added.
Paige just eyed him, knowingly as he followed her into her kitchen. She poured him a fresh cup of coffee, then headed to the fridge and added a healthy dose of Bailey's before handing it over to him.
"So, whaddya dream last night bucko?" She asked, crossing her arms and leaning back against the counter.
Wyatt looked up at her, "how'd you know?" He asked.
"Because I told you what was happening," Paige responded, shaking her head and barely restraining herself from adding a pronounced duh to the end of her statement.
Wyatt rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands, he just wanted to unsee it, he wanted to get rid of the images, forget them completely. And his aunt wanted him to tell her what he saw. Unbidden, snippets of the dreams flashed through his mind. Phoebe being tortured at his command. Paige bloody and crying over a fallen, lifeless Henry. Chris, oh god, Chris…blood, so much blood again and again and again. Bianca dying. And the smiling face of an Elder with a pierced ear he called Gideon.
Wyatt looked up, gulped down as much of the spiked coffee as he could, then shook his head, "I can't, Aunt Paige… I can't."
Paige waited, silent, watching her nephew struggle.
He locked eyes with her, "Please tell me that wasn't real, please," he pleaded, tears starting to form in his eyes.
Paige, trying to keep her own emotions in check, stepped towards him, leaning across the kitchen island. "I can't," she said. "I don't know what all you saw Wy, but I can't tell you it wasn't real."
Wyatt closed his eyes, she could see the pain ripping through him. "Wy, even though its real- YOU didn't do those things, you have to understand that, you have to believe that."
"How can I? I don't even have any context for any of it, just random bits and pieces…" he started, an edge to his voice Paige recognized from her own dream the night before. "How? Why?..." he trailed off, turning his head to look out the window. "Everyone is going to remember, everyone will know what I… who I…" he couldn't even finish.
"Yeah… I think you may have destroyed New York kiddo," Paige deadpanned, attempting levity. Wyatt snapped his head around to stare at her, open-mouthed, horrified. Paige's half-smile vanished. "Uh, well, I mean, that's one possibility, you know, like you said no context or anything yet. I mean someone else could have…" she trailed off. God, she was bad at this. Why did Wyatt have to choose me to come to? Phoebe's the one he should be talking to, unless of course he killed Phoebe…. Nah…
Wyatt stood up, shaking his head, his jaw set in determination. "I can't, I can't deal with this, Aunt Paige…" and he orbed out of the kitchen.
"Dammit Wyatt," she yelled after his orbs.
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Chris didn't even startle as Bianca materialized next to him atop the steel megastructure holding up the bridge the below. He hoped she instinctively knew where to find him, that she remembered, that she remembered what they had and why he had done this. He didn't go back in time just to save his family, that was a happy by-product of course, but really, the driving motivator was her. It was always her.
He schooled his expression, ensuring no traces of his warring emotions were evident.
"You know, trying to track you is a bitch," Bianca said, as she sat down next to him, gazing out over the city. Chris didn't respond, didn't even look at her, he didn't think he could. After a long silence, Bianca took a deep breath. "I dreamed about a park last night," she paused, still staring off in the distance.
Chris closed his eyes, how much did she remember? He clenched his jaw, trying to stop the onslaught of memories. Memories from someone else's life, he reminded himself. He tried to search his mind, tried to grasp for memories from this life, his real life now. That was what he'd been focusing on all night, sitting on the bridge as the sun slowly rose, willing himself to remember, sorting through a flood of conflicting emotions and wisps of memory. Mom, lifeless on the floor of the manor. Mom, smiling at his graduation. Leo disregarding his concerns about Wyatt. Dad, showing him how to rebuild the engine of that old truck. Back and forth, back and forth. And now Bianca, here, dreaming about the park, their park, their spot.
"Tell me," she said, "I need to know."
Chris shook his head, "Bianca," he paused, his voice almost pleading. "I… I…" he shook his head again.
Bianca studied him closely, concerned and confused. Her dreams the night before had been so vivid, so real, but they were only bits and pieces of a life she hadn't actually lived.
"Did I…" she started, "did we…" she swallowed and looked back out over the horizon, watching the fog rise, feeling emotions she didn't understand. Finally she laughed softly, turning back to Chris, "This is just weird, isn't it?"
Chris smiled, cocking his head to the side and looking at her. "Yeah, I guess it is."
She looked at him, her eyes sparkling with mischief, relieved the awkward tension was starting to ease. "So, honestly how good was the sex?"
Chris's eyes went wide and he barked a short laugh, "oh, so THAT time at the park, that's the memory the universe chooses to give you."
Bianca laughed softly too, "yep, it wasn't what I expected- but you didn't answer my question," she teased.
"I'm not going to," Chris said firmly, but with a smile ghosting his face, "you're dating my brother."
"Yeah… what a mess," Bianca said, shaking her head. "Chris," her voice turned serious again, "obviously I don't remember everything yet, but… but I am remembering the feelings. I don't know how I'm- we're- going to sort through this, I don't know…" She turned to look him at again, "I know where Wyatt and I stood yesterday, but now… it's going to take some time. And besides, you don't particularly like me all that much this time around." She winked at him.
Chris looked at her, thinking, "That's hard to believe."
"Nope, it's true- we fight, a lot. You don't trust me either," she paused for a second and then took his hand. "I can't imagine what this is like for you though… and, I just, there is going to be a lot to figure out… and we've got this whole end-of-world thing happening." She sighed, frustrated.
Chris squeezed her hand, then let go, "I know, more important things to focus on, right?"
"It's not that Chris, it's just I'm still Bianca from this timeline, I'm not her, not right now. Maybe I'll become more like the Bianca you're in love with, I don't know. But right now, I'm not her."
Chris looked at her intently, she was right. She wasn't his Bianca, she hadn't lived through a war and torture, she didn't have the same scars, scars he remembered intimately, many of them caused by Wyatt. The woman before him wasn't her, not quite. He shook his head, "I know, I know."
He took her hand and squeezed it one more time before orbing away.