Summary: We all have two families: the ones we're born with and the ones we choose. But what happens when the ones you thought you were born with really chose you? An AU Fanfiction about Chris… Turner? Traveling back to save the Halliwells.

Author's note: THE FIRST TWO CHAPTERS ARE JUST A PRELUDE! THE REST OF THE FANFICTION WILL BE IN THE PRESENT! THIS STORY IS BASED OFF THE ONE MY COUSIN STARTED BUT DROPPED DUE TO LACK OF INTEREST. LET'S MAKE HIM WISH HE KEPT WITH IT, SHALL WE?

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xCourage Under Fire
Productions
presents
Counterfeit Connections
A Charmed FanFiction
by
Diesel Cayden Porter
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Chapter One: A Man with a Plan

Though masked by many interpretations and religious beliefs, hell was often seen as a place of torture and suffering; more often than not, it's also an afterlife. But in the year 2027, hell is all around; the streets overran with demonic forces once deemed works of fiction or outside the realm of possibility. Other than its old location being empty, heaven remains to be seen. What's left of humanity and the forces of good, have been forced into hiding in the desolate locations of the wastelands. The world as humanity knew it ended when WWIII began and with the leader of the Resistance finally captured, all hope seems lost.

Through the incredibly long tunnel of the prison paralleling Alcatraz - a hallway that could very well be described as endless and the meaning of the statement could be taken literally- the unconscious form of the Resistance's leader is being dragged by muscular arms; his muscle adorned body looking small and feeble compared to the demonic enforcers doing the dragging.

The messy heap that is the heroic leader still puts up a fight despite his tragically broken state, boot adorned feet kicking against the grubby cobblestone in a last ditch effort to save himself from being dragged deeper and deeper into the soulless facility. He didn't have a choice. As the newest round of troubled cries led on by torture and misery echo from cells and those not undergoing torture watched their last hope being dragged deeper and deeper into their hell, he was on parade and if he gave up, they surely would too.

And that's the last thing he wants.

Because without resistance, the Halliwell name would live in infamy.

He struggles underneath the vice grip strength of the brute demons in vain until they reach the cell before them. Once at his cell, one of them extended a muscular arm, thrusting the door open in a yawning whine like the gates of an ancient castle and chucked him in like a rag doll.

A pained hiss slips from his lips as he hits the coarse cobblestone and rolls until he hits the unforgiving wall but that's the only sound the stoic leader would allow. After gorgeous green emerges from beneath heavy lids only to question A cool damp surrounds calloused hands as they push down against the rough terrain and propels himself upwards.

Dark shadows casts it's gloomy prints across the stone walls. If it wasn't for the silver streaks pushing their way through the metal bars of the heightened window he wouldn't be able to see the reason he allowed himself to be captured in the cell next to him. Through the dark he fumbles forward and deep green struggles to make out the girl before him.

She's a beautiful combination of all the Halliwell women that came before her but bares the most resemblance to their mother: her beautiful flowing locks, perfect lips, and brilliant eyes that mirror her mother's brown, and father's green. With her Aunt Paige's porcelain perfection of skintone, and her Aunt Paige's bright beaming smile, there was no denying who she belonged to. Thick hands grip onto the bars before him for support as he finally finds his voice.

"Hey there, beautiful," he says barely loud enough for his voice to carry. "Miss me?"

The sound of his voice was a chorus of angels or nails on a chalkboard. She's not entirely sure which as she lifted her head from the cot and rolled over to face him; shock dances in her eyes as she takes in the man before her. He's handsome, devilishly so. His features chiseled like a finely-carved Michelangelo statue- strong jawed and whittled to perfection. His hair is a deep mocha and swept upwards in a causal disarray. And even though he looks like he's been through the ringer, there's a rugged bad-boy appeal about him.

"Oh, c'mon, Mel Bell. Ya' could at least pretend that you're happy to see me," he coos with that signature Halliwell smirk plastered on his face.

Haunting hazel dips behind dark chocolate lashes only to reemerge again and slender fingers pinch her own lanky arm in the hopes to confirm that she's awake and he is indeed before her. Once confirmed she wastes little time in bridging the gap between them and slipping her arms through the bars to wrap him in a warm embrace.

Immediately tired limbs find strength, her embrace waking him up inside and pulling strength out of him he didn't know he had left. One moves around her body and another finds its way into her tangled mess of chocolate locks. Then she was done pretending, her hands slipping from his back and shoving him in the chest and drug hard into his chest. His hands fall from her hair and her stumbles back a few steps before regaining his balance.

"Ow, what the hell, Mel," he called out with disbelief.

There's an anger in her voice as she shouts out with furry evident, "Don't what the hell me, Chris. For the past year, I've been rotting away in this cell and the only thing that's kept me going was knowing that you were out there somewhere and he hadn't got you! And now, here you are. Wyatt has us! And he's going to try to break you."

There's a genuine fear for his safety that stabs at his heart like no other pain he'd endured. He's the older brother. He should be worried about her not vice versa. He should have been the one rotting away in that cell and not her. NOT his baby sister. His mind flashes back to last September when he'd orchestrated what he thought was an ingenious trap to take control of the manor again. Ingenious quickly shown stupidity when Wyatt realized that Chris was a traitor within his midst and destroyed the manor and took everyone within it capture, Melinda included.

She laid everything on the line for him. To save him.
And she'd be nuts if she thought he wouldn't do the same.

They were more alike than either admits. Both believe in freedom above all others but what sets them apart is that she takes it to an extreme: above love, above revenge, above herself. He was more bigger picture. Bridging the distance between them again, Chris reaches out and wraps a hand around her heard, leaning down and pressing his forehead to hers, locking their eyes.

"I knew the risks," he states with a calm that surprises her.

She responds with words thick with tears, "then why'd you do it?"

"For family," he simply starts knowing that their mother's teachings by heart. "Because in the end, that's all that matters."

He lifts his forehead from hers and plants a gentle kiss on his forehead before retreating back into the darkness of his cell.

"We're going to get ours back."

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