Chapter 9

Bianca fell to the floor as soon as they materialized in the attic, and Chris went with her to break her fall. She was breathing harshly, like she couldn't get enough air no matter how much she pulled in, and the bizarre glow around her had faded. Her skin looked as thin and fragile as paper, and her hands were trembling in his.

She looked up at him, opening her mouth to speak, and then her eyes rolled back into her head and she lost consciousness.

"Bianca!" he shouted, grabbing her shoulders and shaking her gently. He wanted to shake her harder and force her awake, but he didn't think her frail body could cope with it. "Bianca, wake up! Bianca!"

And then suddenly Leo was at his side, supporting Bianca's head and examining her with a medical eye. Chris cursed, realizing he should have been doing those things himself. He used to respond so well to stressful situations, but the past had made him slow and panicky again.

Chris looked up hopelessly, and his eyes landed on the sisters. They were all staring at either him or Bianca in concern, but he had little patience for their kindness. It did nothing to help. Their sympathy hadn't stopped Wyatt's war, it hadn't kept the sisters alive, and it wasn't saving Bianca now. He looked back just in time to see Leo scoop Bianca up, the same way Chris had seen him pick up Melinda a hundred times before.

"I'll do it," Chris said, hurrying forward protectively, but Leo shook his head.

"I'm taking her to Phoebe's room," Leo said, his voice serious. "I don't think she's going to wake up anytime soon, and we need to keep her comfortable."

"What do you mean she won't wake up?" Chris demanded, his voice rising an octave and turning sharp with fear.

"Her body's exhausted," Leo said, and then he orbed downstairs. Chris quickly followed after him, reappearing just as he settled Bianca's prone form on the neatly-made bed.

"What can we do for her?" Chris asked, continuing their conversation as if they hadn't just completely shifted rooms.

"I don't think there's anything we can do," Leo said, straightening and looking sadly at Chris. Fear welled in Chris's throat, bitter and hard. He tried to speak, but the ball of panic choked his words.

"She needs the cure," Leo continued after a moment of silence. "Nothing else will help her."

"H—how long?" Chris asked, his words husky and fearful.

"A day, maybe two," Leo said, shaking his head. "Chris, I'm so—"

"Don't!" Chris interrupted, the terror blocking his throat dissolving in a rush of anger. "Don't tell me you're sorry. You don't care and you know it! You have no idea what it's like! God, you people, you just sit here in the past like the future isn't real, but she's the only person who has any idea!"

"Chris, calm down—" Leo began, reaching a hand out to him, but Chris stepped away.

"Don't touch me!" Chris demanded, but his voice cracked. The emotions were gathering like a storm inside of him, and he was afraid they'd crush him if he gave them the chance.

"It'll be okay," Leo said, his voice deceptively reassuring. Chris knew Leo couldn't possibly know that, but part of him wanted so much to believe it. Part of him wanted to hand over his burdens to his father and let Leo carry them for just a little while.

"She's all I've got left," Chris whispered, and he could hear the heartbreak in his own voice.

"I know," Leo said, resting a hand on Chris's arm. Chris let it stay there for just a moment, drawing some comfort from the father who had never offered any before now. Then he pulled away.

"I'll be back," Chris said, and orbed away before Leo had the chance to say anything.

Phoebe walked into the room to see Leo shaking his head sadly, Bianca lying on the bed and Chris nowhere in sight. Paige followed along behind her.

"Where is he?" Phoebe asked immediately.

"Gone," Leo said, looking from Bianca to Phoebe and back again. Then he concentrated for a moment, and Phoebe knew he was sensing Chris' location. "He's at P3."

"What did you tell him?" Phoebe asked, though there was no accusation in her voice—she knew Leo had only told Chris the truth. That was the problem. Looking at Bianca now, Phoebe knew the truth had to be horrible.

"I told him she's going to die unless she gets the cure, and soon," Leo said, shaking his head. The sadness lingered in his eyes. "I'm sorry, Phoebe, but it's true. There's nothing any of us can do for her anymore, and we don't have time to find or make a new antidote."

Phoebe's throat welled with sympathy, and she forced the watery lump back down. She knew how this must be affecting Chris.

Abruptly Phoebe turned to Paige. "Take me to P3," she commanded, using the sisterly, superior tone she rarely ever took with her younger sibling.

"What, why?" Paige asked, shaking her head. "Phoebe, if he left, it's because he wants to be alone. I don't think we should barge in on him when he's—"

"You don't understand," Phoebe interrupted, and then she shook her head in frustration. Of course they didn't understand—they didn't know Chris was family. It was perfectly acceptable to leave their neurotic Whitelighter to his grief, but it was another thing entirely to ignore the pain of their nephew. Phoebe just wished she could tell them that. "Paige, I don't think he should be alone right now. Please just take me there?"

Paige rolled her eyes in frustration but nodded. She grabbed Phoebe's arm, and then the two of them disappeared in a burst of blue orbs. They reappeared in P3, which was conveniently empty. The only sound was a hollow, repetitive thunk that echoed from somewhere in the back. Paige stepped forward quickly, but Phoebe grabbed her arm.

"Let me deal with this," Phoebe said. Paige looked annoyed and crossed her arms over her chest, but she nodded.

Phoebe turned away and approached the storage room, walking quickly but quietly. She turned the knob and stepped hurriedly inside the room, shutting the door behind her.

Then she ducked when a book came flying at her face. It hit the closed door and ricocheted off, landing with a thump on the ground.

"Oh, God, Phoebe, sorry—" Chris said, hurrying toward her. He looked haggard and pale, but his eyes were the worst of it. Phoebe had never seen them so hopeless and broken.

"It's fine," she said, reaching her hands out to him. "Chris, how are you—"

"Don't," Chris interrupted with a short, bitter laugh. "You should know better than to ask me that."

"I'm so sorry," Phoebe said, tears filling her eyes as she stared at her nephew. "I wish—if there was anything I could do—"

"There's not," Chris said harshly, but his voice broke and ruined his veneer. He looked on the verge of tears for a moment, and then he regained himself—she could see the struggle in his eyes as he fought to hide his misery. "There's nothing any of you can do."

Phoebe knew her touch was probably unwanted, but she couldn't resist offering it. She walked forward and hugged him, the same way she'd done when she found out who he really was. Chris hesitated a moment and then clung to her, and she could imagine him doing the very same thing as a little boy, crying over problems much less serious and terrible.

"I'm sorry, Chris," Phoebe said again, running her fingers comfortingly through his hair. "I love you."

He pulled back and looked at her, and she held his gaze, her eyes serious. He nodded after a moment. "I love you, too."

She patted him on the shoulder, and the moment would have been peaceful had the door not slammed open unexpectedly. A distraught and angry Paige stood on the other side, her hands planted firmly on her hips and her expression mutinous.

"Okay, what the hell is going on here?" Paige demanded, and Phoebe and Chris stared at her in stunned surprise. "'I love you'? And the defending and the comforting and the whispered conversations that you think I haven't noticed—" Paige broke off and gasped, her hand jumping to cover her mouth. "Oh, my God! You guys are together!"

Phoebe held up her hands to stall her sister while Chris continued to look at Paige as if he couldn't believe his eyes. Paige went on furiously, "This is just—this is sick is what it is! He's got a dying fiancé at home and—oh, my God, Phoebe, he's not even born yet! Do you even know the amount of therapy you two need because of this—!"

"Stop it," Chris commanded roughly, and Paige fell silent at last.

Phoebe's tongue finally came unglued from the top of her mouth, and she said, "You've got it all wrong, Paige. We're not dating—that's just disgusting. No, Chris is…"

She stopped and looked at Chris, unsure of what to do. She really didn't want to give him more problems, and Paige finding out his secret was definitely a problem. Still, there was no other way to stem her sister's crazy accusations—even though the truth seemed even crazier.

"She's my aunt," Chris said finally, his voice weary. It was clear the secret was low on his list of concerns at the moment. "And so are you. I'm Piper and Leo's son."

Paige's fell open and stayed that way for a good minute, and then it snapped shut with such force that Phoebe's own teeth ached.

"You… you're my—" Paige began, disbelief in her words.

"Nephew," Chris finished impatiently. "Yes."

Paige looked towards Phoebe, and Phoebe nodded in response to her questioning gaze. "It's true. I know it seems impossible, but he's one of us. A Halliwell."

"This is why you've been so protective of him," Paige said, still sounding as if she had been hit over the head with something very heavy. "Why you seem so close now. He's—Piper is your mother."

"Yeah," Chris said, his expression slightly pained.

"And we're your family, so that means we're all dead in the future," Paige deduced, sounding slightly more pulled-together now.

Chris rolled his eyes heavenward as if looking for help there. "And now there's another person who knows something they shouldn't."

"Does Piper know?" Paige demanded, her usual bluntness gradually returning.

"No!" Chris and Phoebe said at the same time. Chris looked at Phoebe and she let him continue. "And I'd appreciate if you didn't tell her, Paige. I can't—I can't deal with anything else right now. I just can't."

"Yeah," Paige said, her expression softening at the edges. "I get that. I won't tell her, I promise."

Chris looked relieved, but he also looked as if all of his earlier problems were returning to him at full force. Without a word, he collapsed on the couch and buried his head in his hands. Phoebe moved to sit next to him, but he looked up at her.

"Can you please go?" Chris asked, his voice constricted. "I know you just want to help, but I—I'm not used to anyone helping and I think I could handle it better on my own."

"You don't have to be alone, Chris," Phoebe argued, aching to reach out for him again. "That's what family is for."

"Please," Chris asked again, looking away from her. It was the first time he had ever begged her to do anything, and for that reason, Phoebe listened. She nodded even though he wasn't looking at her, and she indicated for Paige to walk out the door.

The middle Charmed One followed along after her sister, but Phoebe stopped at the archway and added, "We'll go for now, but if you need anything, Chris, please come to us. We're all here for you."

She waited until he nodded, and then she walked out of his room, too. She reached Paige's side and Paige grabbed her hand, and together they orbed back to the manor.

Chris listened until he was sure the sisters were gone. Then he leapt from the couch and turned back to the wall behind him, using his telepathy to shut the door. The wall was half cleared-off, with most of the shelves and boxes stacked up behind the couch. He continued shoving books and supplies and other random things out of the way until he'd cleared a big enough space on the wall.

Reaching behind him, Chris grabbed a piece of chalk and began drawing the shape he needed. The spell Bianca had used to take him to the future still echoed in his head. He'd memorized it then, but he'd always hoped he would never have to use it.

When he finished the drawing on the wall, he stepped back for a moment to scrutinize his work. Then he took a deep breath and, trying not to think too deeply about what he was doing, began chanting the spell.