Disclaimer: Charmed isn't mine.
Author's Note: This fic is set post-'Prince Charmed', but pre-'The Legend of Sleepy Halliwell' – therefore, Wyatt trusts Chris and so doesn't raise his shield around him, but none of the sisters know who Chris really is.
Charmed
Holding You Holding Me
By
Starzangel
The air was thick with acrid smoke and falling fragments of blasted furniture. Briefly clear patches revealed demon ash in scattered heaps across the hall floor. However, dark shadows still moved amongst the haze and the three sisters had their guard up. Phoebe and Paige sheltered Piper and Wyatt between them, as the three witches peered through the smoke with stinging, streaming eyes, trying to ascertain from where the next attack would come.
A ringing jingly sound announced the final arrival of blue-white orbs next to them.
"About time!" Paige complained, ducking out of the way of a fireball.
Chris coughed as the thick air filled his lungs. "Sorry, I- "
"Never mind," Piper cut in. "Just get Wyatt out of here."
Something that looked like alarm filled Chris's face and he paled a good few shades. "What? But- "
"Go!" Piper ordered. "We'll take care of these smoky guys."
And she thrust her son into Chris's arms.
Chris staggered back a few steps, as the sisters moved forward into the smoke to launch an offensive. He bumped against the post of the stair rail. An expression of terror was frozen on his face. He stared ahead, not daring to look down at the child he could feel against his chest and in his hands.
A fireball narrowly missed Chris's head and then he was gone.
As he materialised again, Chris was in a panic, uncertain whether it had been him or his brother that had controlled the orbing. However, the familiar spectacular view from atop the Golden Gate Bridge greeted him and his fears were put to rest.
Chris struggled to take several deep, steadying breaths. He expected a lightning bolt to strike him at any moment. Or sparks to appear at the very least.
This shouldn't be happening. He couldn't hold Wyatt it was… A stream of emotions was coursing through him. Revulsion, horror, repulsion, astonishment, apprehension and, most of all, fear. It made him feel dizzy. Bile rose to his throat.
Flustered, Chris looked for somewhere to safely put the child down. However, the rafters of the Golden Gate Bridge didn't offer anything in the way of kid-friendly spots. His mind raced wildly.
Wyatt. This was Wyatt Matthew Halliwell. His brother. His evil overlord brother. Who had tried to kill him.
And yet he wasn't, Chris reminded himself. It was all a lot of 'might-be's or 'will-be's. In an odd sense, this Wyatt wasn't really even his true brother – he wasn't even conceived, let alone born, in this time; this Wyatt was currently an only child.
He dared a look down.
Bright blue eyes stared up at him, innocent in their pale little child face. There was unsettling power twinkling deep in the gaze, but it was the uncanny, unexpected magical strength of it - the mere tip of the iceberg – that was disturbing; there was no evil there. Not yet.
Absolute power. A terrifying thing.
However, it was a strength that could do great good, if he was protected and prevented from being turned. Things could be very different from the way they had been – or rather, sorting out the headachy timetravel perspective, would be. Wyatt could stay good.
A strong feeling suddenly struck Chris. This was his brother. There was the whole warping of timetravel, but looking into the child's face Chris could see his brother, his uncorrupted, pure brother. It was the lingering part of evil overlord Wyatt that had kept Chris alive long enough to travel back in time, the lingering part that made him believe his brother could be saved.
Chris half-smiled at his baby big brother.
His brother. His adult self holding his infant big brother. It was still weird and unsettling.
Time passed gently and Chris relaxed, the wind ruffling his hair and the sound of the traffic below softened and blurred by the distance. Clouds languidly followed each other across the sky and the darker blue of the water was sprinkled with the glittering crests of waves. Far away, the city rose like a rock edged in quartz, glass and metal catching the sunlight.
Wyatt was feeling safe, too. Chris felt his little head falling against his shoulder and watched his eyes peacefully drift closed. A small fist clung tightly to his shirt.
Staring out towards the horizon, Chris hugged his brother to him.
Chris. It was Piper calling. The danger had passed and she was ready to take her son back.
Chris looked down at the sleeping boy once more. Tenderness filled him, as he prepared to orb back to the manor and he realised something.
He didn't want to let him go.
Chris smiled. Then the two brothers left the bridge behind and went home in a shower of orbs.
Fin