Title: Things Left Unsaid

Disclaimer: I don’t own anything

Author’s note: So this is one incident in the changed future and how it is perceived by Chris, Piper, Leo, and Wyatt. There are four points-of-view. The words section break indicate a break within the same POV and the ruler bar indicates a change in POV. All POVs are labeled.

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Things Left Unsaid

Chris’ POV

He’s seven when it first happens.

He’s standing in front of the attic window, staring silently at the perfectly manicured lawn three floors below, because his mother’s sent him up here to stay safe while they fight a demon in the sunroom below him. He’s scared of the loud noises and sudden eruptions of fire, and has yet to become annoyed at the way he is always kept out of magic, pushed to the safety of the sidelines while the rest of his family battles the forces of darkness. Up until that one moment in time, his view of the world is simple enough; his mother and father love him and want him to stay safe, and his brother is the absolute perfect brother, one a younger sibling could look up to, could emulate.

And then it happens.

For that one brief moment, the world slips sideways on its axis, and the attic around him becomes a memory, a vision, something that feels so familiar and yet so distant. The sky through the window is darker, somehow, and he feels fear above all else. Something floats through his peripheral vision, large and shiny metallic, like a gigantic mechanical bug.

And then it’s gone, and he’s standing in the attic again, staring down at the clipped and trimmed bushes that line the perfect green lawn.

He’s seven, and he thinks it’s just a nightmare, and wanting to prove that he is a big boy, he doesn’t mention it to his parents.

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He’s leaning towards the grapefruit, eyeing them each appraisingly, when the tingles slide down his spine, and he looks up, twisting around sharply.

He knows that tingle, he’s felt it a handful of times in the past eleven years since that moment that he first glimpsed another world. He knows what it means, and he knows he’s about to come face-to-face with another reminder of a life that no longer exists.

No one has ever mentioned that other world to him, and he’s fairly certain his parents believe that he doesn’t know the truth. And, really, he doesn’t know the truth. Only bits and pieces, glimpses and feelings that filter down to him, and fragments of dreams that he clings to, struggling to decipher in those few moments between sleeping and waking when everything is a hazy mixture of fantasy and memory and truth.

But he knows that there was another world, one that he changed, one that’s gone now, slipping away from him like sand through his fingers.

He turns and scans the aisle of the grocery store. His mother’s begged him to come shopping with her, and he’s found himself unable to say no. He knows that in that other future, he was a mama’s boy, but somehow that’s changed now, and he isn’t quite comfortable in the presence of the woman he used adore.

He thinks, maybe, that it’s because she isn’t quite comfortable around him.

His mother has moved further down the aisle, and is staring at the carrots and turnips, so she doesn’t see the way he stops suddenly, doesn’t see his curious, searching look.

He still feels the sensation, but can’t locate the source. He opens his mouth, about to call out to his mother, worried that perhaps it is some danger he can’t yet find, when his eyes fall on the woman a few yards behind him, and the words get trapped in his throat.

She’s turning to look at him, and he feels the rush of familiarity, the sudden awareness of longing. For a moment, their eyes meet, and he loses himself in those chocolate eyes, familiar and yet foreign. Her cherry red lips are quirked into a half-smile, and her dark hair falls over smooth tan skin.

A word echoes in his head, a name that seems to mean everything and nothing all at the same time.

Bianca.

“Chris?”

He jumps in surprise and realizes his mother has appeared at his elbow, pulling him away from his reverie.

The strange woman turns away from them, and the moment ends. He wonders if she recognized him, if any part of her felt the tug of familiarity. But she’s already moving away from him, and he stands still, unable to do anything as she walks out of his life.

He looks at his mother, wonders if she appeared at that exact moment on purpose. She’s not looking at him, but he can see the tension in the line of her jaw, the suspicion flickering briefly through her normally gentle brown eyes.

“Let’s pay for these and head home,” she says.

He looks down at the groceries they are holding. It’s only half of what was on the shopping list, but his mother doesn’t seem to care.

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He stares out of the car window, watching as pedestrians walk by, as a gray pigeon flies down to the sidewalk and wobbles about with it’s funny gait, as a black and white cat slinks through a fence and vanishes from view.

“There was this girl in the store,” he says abruptly, some insane urge suddenly getting the better of him, forcing him to test the waters. He wants to see what his mother will say, how she’ll react.

“A friend of yours?” his mother replies, and her voice is calm, even.

“No,” he replies. “I… I’d never seen her before. She just seemed… familiar. I think maybe she was a witch.” His mother doesn’t reply, and he turns his head slightly so that he can see her profile. She’s avoiding his gaze, her eyes fixed to the road. He hesitates, then presses, “I felt a connection with her.”

She’s quiet, accepting his words.

He goes further, “Maybe she’s a future charge of mine? The Elders did say they think I should start taking in charges now that I’m an adult.”

She snorts at that. At eighteen, the Elders have decided her baby boy is now old enough to guide others. He knows how she feels about that; she thinks the Elders are just trying to push more work onto their family.

“Well, I guess we will have to wait and see what the Elders say,” she says at last. The silence is heavy, as though there is something else she wants to say; he waits, but nothing comes.

They still aren’t speaking when they reach the Manor. She stops the car in the driveway and stares at the house for a moment, then at her son. He looks back at her, eyes questioning, waiting for answers. She opens her mouth, words dancing on the tip of her tongue.

But when she speaks, it’s not what he wants to hear.

“Can you bring the groceries in?”

She gets out of the car, leaving him to deal with the plastic bags. He stares at them for a moment, debating the risks and benefits of orbing them directly into the kitchen.

“And no orbing, Christopher.”

He looks up sharply, and she’s standing at the top of the steps, staring down at him with a serious expression on her face, a smile tugging at her lips. He looks back at her, and sees someone else; or, rather, sees a different version of her.

He blinks and shakes his head. It unnerves him when she reads his mind, when she acts so like the other mother he can only remember in faded dreams. But even when she leaves, the silence is still there, wrapped around him, a barrier he can’t quite cross. He almost opens his mouth, almost calls after her, almost tells her that he knows.

But she’s already left, and he sighs into the silence. Sometimes there just isn’t anything left to say.

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Piper’s POV

Chris is nine or ten when it first happens.

They’ve gone to the zoo, just the two of them. Wyatt’s at a friend’s house, and Leo’s at Magic School, so it’s a mother-son date. They stand outside the lion’s cage, watching the great cat pace back and forth across the stone and grass landscape, wild mane fluttering in the wind. Chris observes happily, licking at a chocolate ice cream cone she’s bought for him. But then, quite abruptly, his smile fades, and he tugs at his mother’s arm.

“He’s not happy,” the young boy confides, gazing at the lion. “He wants to be free.” He’s quiet another moment, then adds, “He feels like there are two of him. Like he’s make-believing to be something he’s really not.”

He doesn’t have empathy, and even if he did, he wouldn’t be able to feel the emotions of animals. She can’t understand where his insights are coming from, and when she looks down into his face, his green eyes are so serious she feels the sudden shock of recognition.

She is looking at her son, but it is Chris Perry who is looking back at her.

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In the split-second before understanding comes with it’s bright white lights and crashes of cymbals and drums, Piper Halliwell feels unexplained fear. She doesn’t know who she is looking at until the woman turns around and she can see the dark brown silky hair that falls over tan skin and chocolate eyes, the slight quirk of the cherry lips, and the strange blood-red birthmark on the inside of the arm.

And then she knows, and remembers, and her heart stops beating in her chest.

Her son is standing in the middle of the fruits and vegetables aisle, staring in rapture at that Phoenix.

Bianca.

Everything slips away from her so quickly she’s afraid she’s fallen off the Earth and will soon float away into the nothingness of space, a void of memory.

“Chris, you know all work and no… Hey!”

He’s sliding down against the wall as she pulls her hand out of his chest and conjures an energy ball. He’s pacing the attic, clearly worried, clearly lying, as they question him about the mysterious attack. He’s lying on the sofa, his powers and his life draining away, the large gaping wound in his chest, raw and red, as he whispers out her name.

She’s at his side before she realizes what she’s doing.

“Chris?”

He turns to look at her, but she’s still looking at the Phoenix, watching coldly as the young woman walks away. She can feel his gaze on her, however, and knows he wants to ask her questions. She wants to answer them, but when she grasps for the words, she comes up blank. There’s so much she wants to say, but sometimes it’s easier not to say anything at all.

She doesn’t hate Bianca. She doesn’t know the Phoenix, and time has taught her not to be too hasty in her judgments of people. But every time she looks at her youngest son, she sees something else. She sees Chris Perry’s haunted eyes staring back at her, and she can’t understand why he is still here, still living in her son’s body.

Chris Perry is still her son, she knows that. Except, he isn’t. He belongs to a different mother, someone who no longer exists. Someone who died so long ago that she has been forever emblazoned in his memory as picture-perfect.

She’s not that mother, and she wonders sometimes if it is possible to be jealous of herself.

He belonged to so many different people. To a mother she will never be, to a father he never really knew, to a brother who he would sacrifice everything for, to a world full of people that she cannot even begin to comprehend.

And to Bianca.

And every day he looks at her with those eyes, and every day she hears those words floating around the space that separate them.

Future consequences.

It was true, she knew. Chris Perry sprouted that nonsense, but it was also true. And yet, it was so much more than that for him. It was… An excuse not to get close to her. An excuse not to answer her questions. An excuse not to deal with memories or the past. A past she will never know, can never know, because the only person who remembered it is gone now.

Except that he isn’t.

Because he is still there, still staring at her from her son’s face.

She doesn’t hate Bianca. She hates that she’s losing Chris.

She wants to say so much and wants to let the moment pass by. She wants to explain the past and she wants to obscure what once happened. She wants to remember everything and forget everything all at the same time, and in the end, she never knows what to do.

“Let’s pay for these and go home,” she says, and doesn’t care that they’ve only found half the items on the grocery list.

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Later that night, while she stands in front of the stove and stares blankly off into space, she can’t help but wonder when her son became a stranger. It’s dark outside, and moonlight cascades through the window, illuminating the polished tiles of the floor, pushing the shadows a bit further away. On the floor above, she hears the sounds of footsteps. She can recognize them easily, the heavy rise and fall, the even measured stride. Wyatt has dropped by from college, and by the sounds of it, he is here to visit Chris. His footsteps end outside Chris’ room, and she closes her eyes and imagines his blonde hair and bright smile.

“Wyatt’s here.” Her husband’s voice cuts into her thoughts as he appears in the doorway of the kitchen.

She doesn’t answer, still searches the blank wall, scrutinizing out the answer for her hidden problems. Phoebe once teased her that she always looked away from everyone when she was trying to answer a riddle, as though she’d find inspiration in the white walls, floor, and ceiling.

Maybe she will. She hasn’t found inspiration anywhere else.

Arms wrap around her and she tries to let herself melt into the embrace.

She can’t.

Sometimes, in the darkest nights, when she can’t fight off her own fears, she finds herself terrified to look into her family’s eyes. She’s seen Chris Perry staring at her, and how long will it be before Leo the Elder and Evil Wyatt appear as well?

“Maybe we should have dessert?” Leo suggests, moving away from her towards the freezer. “We haven’t done that in a while, and since Wyatt is here…” He’s already pulling out the ice cream before he realizes that she hasn’t answered. He turns to look at her, but she’s still staring in the other direction, thinking of some other time and place.

There is a silence. She knows there have been a lot of those. She wonders how many more there will be before someone reaches their tipping point and screams just to hear the noise.

She wonders if she will be that someone.

“I’ll go call Wyatt and Chris,” Leo says, drifting out of the kitchen as soundlessly as he had come.

“He’s my son,” she says into the silence, but there’s no answer.

She didn’t really expect one.

---

Leo POV

Chris is eleven when it first happens.

They’re at Magic School together, just the two of them. Somehow, and he’s not really sure how, one of the students manages to summon a group of trolls, and he’s had to run off in the middle of the game he was playing with his younger son to try to prevent the complete annihilation of the seventh grade.

He gets back to his office an hour or so later, covered in dust and soot and ash, a little worse for wear. But it’s okay, because the problem has been taken care of, and no one was injured all that badly.

Chris looks up as he enters the room, green eyes filled with sorrow. He’s still holding the same set of cards in his hand, and Leo remembers abruptly that they were playing Go-Fish. He can’t remember whose turn it is, but that doesn’t seem like such a big deal because he’d be more than willing to let his son go first.

Still, Chris’ eyes are sad, and he says in his small voice, “You were supposed to play with me.”

The older man opens his mouth, blue eyes widening, but he can’t come up with the good excuse. He wants to explain, well, there were trolls in the school, and we were in danger, and every seventh grader was about to get killed, but the words are trapped in his throat and he stumbles through a weak apology.

“I’m sorry, Chris… I had to… take care of… things.”

The young witch-lighter doesn’t say anything, and in the silence, other words echo, fading in and out of reality, half-memory, half-fears.

You were never there for me. You were there for everyone else. Mom, Wyatt, half the world… but you were never there for me. You didn’t have the time.

He doesn’t want to be that person, swears that no matter what he won’t be that man, but the truth is, at some point in some other reality, he’s already been that father.

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He senses his son’s presence before he hears the telltale chime of orbs. Closing his eyes, he focuses on the feeling of his son’s magic. It is stronger than anyone else’s, and it shimmers and radiates with a strength and power he’s never felt from anyone else.

He knows his son is standing right outside the door to the bedroom, but then the sound of footsteps lead away from him, and he knows he wasn’t the person Wyatt came to visit.

He knows his son has stopped outside his brother’s room, and can almost hear the rise and fall of voices as the two brother’s greet each other.

He’s mortal now, and doesn’t have the same powers he once had, as an Elder. But something lingers, some strange bits and pieces of magic, and some nights, like tonight, he can sense more than a mere mortal should ever be able to.

He wonders how Wyatt knew that Chris needed someone to talk to. Their bond as brothers is strong, he concedes, but it still bothers him that Chris goes to Wyatt for help, and not his parents.

He knows somehow that Wyatt is now in Chris’ room, and the door is closed, so he leaves his own bedroom and walks down the stairs, listening to each and every creak. Piper’s in the kitchen, as he knows she would be, and he pauses in the doorway long enough to watch her. Her eyes are closed, but he knows that even if they were open, she’d be staring blankly at nothing.

She does that a lot.

“Wyatt’s here,” he says, and watches her carefully, wanting to see if she starts at his presence.

She doesn’t.

He wonders if she’s even heard him.

He walks towards her, and wraps his arms around her, trying to pull her into a hug. But she’s still stiff, and the embrace falls short of what it should have been. He waits a moment longer, wanting to see if she’ll relax or pull away.

She does neither, and they stand there, still and unmoving.

He drops his arms and walks towards the freezer. “Maybe we should have dessert?” he suggests. His words sound empty, and she doesn’t answer. “We haven’t done that in a while, and since Wyatt is here…” He pulls the ice cream from the freezer.

She still doesn’t answer, and when he turns to look at her, she’s looking at the wall.

He wants to ask her what’s wrong, but he already knows. He wants to tell her to stop being so distant, so cold, she’s not the only one hurting. She’s not the only one afraid. But he can’t say the words because she’ll flinch and the pain in her eyes will be unbearable.

They don’t want to remember the other Chris. They don’t want to remember what they lost, the pain it caused.

But he knows that his wife is terrified, so terrified, of losing the Chris they have now.

He wishes he could offer her comfort, but he can’t. He can’t even comfort himself.

“I’ll go call Wyatt and Chris,” he says, and he knows Piper won’t turn around again until he’s gone.

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He knocks on the door of his younger son’s room, and it opens slowly to reveal Chris, sitting on the bed, knees pulled into his chest, and Wyatt, leaning against the desk chair. They both look at him, and he tries to force a smile. They were talking about something serious. He wished he knew what it was.

“We’re having dessert,” he says at last. “Ice cream and cookies.”

Wyatt’s face lights up at that, and he jokes, “Wow. If I knew that coming home meant Mom would actually serve us junk, I’d be here every night.”

Chris musters a laugh, but it sounds hollow to Leo.

Wyatt doesn’t seem to notice. Chris gets up, slowly, almost reluctantly, and follows. He pauses at the door, staring at his father, and Leo looks back.

He searches Chris’ face, seeking out the traits of the other Chris, the leftover attributes of a son that was never his, and prays he won’t find them. But he does. The serious gaze in the eyes, the tension in the neck, the worry lines across the forehead.

He shakes his head, and Chris steps past him, and the illusion is gone.

But the memory lingers, never quite fading away, and he can’t help but remember the dark red stain spilling out from the wound where Gideon’s knife had unerringly hit home.

“Everything okay, Dad?”

Wyatt’s voice calls Leo back to reality. Chris is left the room, and wanders further down the stairs. Wyatt’s staring at his father, blue eyes narrowed in what Leo can only assume in concern.

He sighs. “I don’t know, Wy.”

Wyatt opens his mouth to reply, then closes it, and Leo thinks to himself that people in this family never really say what they want to say.

“What did you talk to Chris about?” he asks, slanting a look at his blonde son.

The Twice Blessed doesn’t answer for a moment, then says carefully, almost cautiously, “Just brother stuff.”

“He’s been distant lately,” Leo comments. “Is everything alright?” Part of his rebels at the fact that he is asking one son to confide in him about the other. He knows neither Chris nor Wyatt like that, they stick together, brothers against the world. He just wishes they’d stop looking at him and Piper as the “other” when they’re supposed to be family.

“Just typical teenage problems,” Wyatt replies, attempting a laugh.

Leo raises an eyebrow. Typical teenage problems? In this family? Somehow, he sincerely doubts that.

There isn’t really anything for him to say, so he just nods and murmurs, “Well, I hope you gave him good advice.”

This time Wyatt really does laugh. “Of course, Dad,” he says with a conspiratorial wink. “What other kind of advice would I give him?” He tries to maintain a straight face as he adds, “I just told him to follow in my footsteps and be a good boy. Stay out of trouble.”

“Oh, so that’s what you call spending every night racing around the Underworld, looking for demons? Staying out of trouble?” Leo shoots back with a grin. He marvels at how easy it is to talk to Wyatt, and how much more difficult it is to talk to Chris, and instantly feels guilty. Is he becoming that other father? The one who played favorites?

Wyatt doesn’t appear to notice the worry that flashes through his father’s eyes, and continues blithely, “Well, of course. I never got into fights at school, did I? I was the model student.”

Leo rolls his eyes. “I don’t think your mother got a good night’s sleep since you started high school,” he points out dryly. “She was too busy staying up all night, scrying for you, and thinking up ways to magically tie you to the house.”

Wyatt laughs again. After a pause, he says, “Don’t worry, Dad. I didn’t tell Chris to hunt demons or anything like that.” Again, a silence, before he adds, “I figure Chris doesn’t need my help worrying you and Mom. He does that one pretty well on his own.”

He steps past his father, not seeing the brief flash of grief and shock that washes Leo’s features, and walks down the stairs.

Leo shakes his head. “He does, indeed,” he whispers. “He does, indeed.”

---

Wyatt POV

Chris is thirteen when it first happens. He and Wyatt are setting the table for dinner, when Chris looks up at Wyatt suddenly, green eyes wide with fear.

Wyatt looks around quickly, trying to find the demon that his brother is so terrified of. But there is no one in the room except the two of them, and Wyatt shakes his head, confused.

When he looks back at Chris, the brunette witch-lighter has moved away from him, towards the refrigerator. He doesn’t seem afraid any more, and Wyatt wonders if he imagined it. But he can’t quite shake the growing feeling that his brother was afraid… of him.

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There’s a knock on the door, and Chris uses his telekinesis to pull the door open. Their father is standing there, and odd expression on his face.

“We’re having desert,” he says after a moment’s pause. “Ice cream and cookies.”

Wyatt smiles, eyes filled with laughter. His mother never fed them junk while he still lived in the house, and dessert was a very rare event. “Wow,” he jokes, “If I knew that coming home meant Mom would actually serve us junk, I’d be here every night.” He’s only half-kidding; he misses his family.

Chris laughs. It isn’t a very happy laugh, but Wyatt gives no sign that he’s noticed that. He doesn’t want to draw his father’s attention to it, doesn’t want to give Leo any reason to worry about his sons.

Chris gets up, almost reluctantly, and walks over to the door. He stops there, because Leo hasn’t moved out of the way, and the two stare at each other for a moment. Wyatt watches as Leo searches his son’s face for something, or for something not to be there. Chris finally steps past him, but Leo doesn’t even seem to notice this, lost in other thoughts.

Chris walks down the stairs.

“Everything okay, Dad?” Wyatt asks.

Leo starts, then sighs. “I don’t know, Wy,” he answers, and Wyatt thinks it is one of the few completely honest things his father has ever said to him.

He opens his mouth, wanting to tell his father not to worry about it, that everything will be okay. But he stops, wondering if his father actually knows what is wrong. After all, he thinks, even he doesn’t know what is wrong, and what are the chances Chris shared that with his parents but not his brother?

He closes his mouth.

But Leo asks, “What did you talk to Chris about?” and Wyatt knows he can’t avoid the conversation. He’s quiet, thinking, wondering what to answer. He can’t betray Chris, but has Chris even told him enough for him to be able to betray his brother? And maybe he should tell his parents everything he knows, which is admittedly very little. Maybe they’d be able to help.

But maybe not.

“Just brother stuff,” he says at last. In all honesty, he isn’t actually sure what they talked about.

“He’s been distant lately,” Leo muses. “Is everything alright?”

No, Wyatt thinks. But he has a pretty shrewd guess that Leo already knows that. “Just typical teenage problems,” he replies, attempting a laugh.

Leo raises an eyebrow, and Wyatt knows his father doesn’t believe him.

“Well, I hope you gave him some good advice,” his father says finally.

Wyatt laughs, a real laugh. “Of course, Dad,” he says with a wink. “What other advice would I give him?” Struggling to keep his expression serious, he explains, “I just told him to follow in my footsteps and be a good boy. Stay out of trouble.”

As expected, Leo takes the bait.

“Oh, so that’s what you call spending every night racing around the Underworld, looking for demons? Staying out of trouble?”

“Well, of course. I never got into fights at school, did I? I was the model student.” He was the model student, he thinks proudly. Straight-A’s and a scholarship to college. And how many times had they saved the world in the past few years?

Leo counters, “I don’t think your mother got a good night’s sleep since you started high school. She was too busy staying up all night, scrying for you, and thinking up ways to magically tie you to the house.”

Wyatt laughs again, but thinks silently that while Piper may have only dreamt about keeping him in the house, she practically did do that to Chris. He didn’t go hunting every night, didn’t get caught in messy vanquishes, didn’t continually wash demon insides out of his hair. Their mother was always too careful, too protective. Like she was much more worried about losing Chris than about losing anyone else.

“Don’t worry, Dad. I didn’t tell Chris to hunt demons or anything like that. I figure Chris doesn’t need my help worrying you and Mom. He does that one pretty well on his own.”

As he says the words, he knows how true they are, and only wishes he knew why.

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Dessert is a cheerful affair, but only because Wyatt struggles to make it so. He tells amusing stories from college and cracks jokes, and even Chris manages to laugh.

Until the sudden appearance of a dark-lighter puts a damper on everything. He half wonders why dark-lighters still attack, don’t they know they don’t stand a chance in this house? His mother’s already blowing the dark-lighter up before he fully forms, and he doesn’t have a chance to fire even one arrow.

What a waste of effort for the dark-lighter, Wyatt thinks.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt?” Piper asks, leaning across the table towards Chris, inspecting him with a serious gaze, as though trying to search out hidden injuries.

“Mom, the dark-lighter didn’t even fire an arrow,” Wyatt points out dryly, but Piper ignores him. She places her hand on Chris’ arm and stares at him for a long moment, as though needing physical reassurance that he’s still there, still breathing.

And Chris looks up at his mother, a small smile appearing in his eyes. Wyatt knows he hates the way Piper babies him, panicking over every threat, perceived or not. But he also knows that part of Chris likes these moments, split-seconds in time where his mother actions convey more than her words ever could.

She loves them all, and nothing will ever change that.

“What about me?” Wyatt asks. “Don’t you want to know if I’m okay?” He flashes a smile, trying to draw his mother’s attention to him.

She gives him a quick glance. “You’re fine,” she replies dismissively, and Chris bursts out into laughter at that.

“Mama’s boy,” Wyatt mutters under his breath, and Chris stops laughing, gives him a curious look. Wyatt meets his brother’s gaze, and wonders what thoughts are traveling through his brother’s mind. But he can’t read the expression, and Chris looks away at last.

Leo speaks up, changing the subject, “When do you have to get back to school, Wy?”

“Tomorrow afternoon,” Wyatt replies. “I thought maybe I could spend the night here?”

Piper and Leo exchange a glance, and Wyatt gets the feeling that they are communicating silently, passing along information that no one else will ever hear.

Wyatt thinks that even if they spoke out loud, he wouldn’t understand it. He never does, not in this family. Too many statements float over his head, and sometimes he wonders whether or not they’re all living in the same reality.

The silence is uncomfortable.

“Of course,” Leo answers.

Piper whispers quietly, “You sure you’re okay, peanut?” and Chris rolls his eyes.

“I’m fine, Mom.”

Wyatt thinks to himself that his mother was asking something else, some other question that he doesn’t really understand, and Chris’ answer wasn’t the right one either. They both wanted to say something else, but the words just didn’t come.

“Fine. But I’m going to call Paige and have her check with the Elders to see if this was more than just a random attack. I don’t want you getting hurt,” Piper concedes at last.

“What about me?” Wyatt asks playfully. “Can I get hurt?” He pauses, a wicked gleam coming into his eyes. “If you aren’t as worried about me, maybe I’ll just go investigate this latest attack…” He’s already getting out of his seat when Piper spins on him, eyes narrowed.

“If you even think about going to the Underworld I will bind your powers and lock you in your room until you are eighty,” his mother growls.

Chris laughs again. But something in his laugh is sadder, as though he’s reminded of some other event, something painful. Piper looks at him, and Wyatt thinks she’s about to cry.

“Mom…?”

“Piper, don’t…”

Both Leo and Wyatt speak at the same time.

Piper shakes her head. “I just don’t want anyone to get hurt,” she says. Wyatt can hear the pause in her words, there’s something else she wants to say, but she doesn’t.

“Mom, I’m fine, and Wyatt’s not going to go vanquishing in the Underworld any time soon,” Chris promises. He glares at his brother. “Right?”

“Right,” Wyatt says quickly, and Piper nods. Leo smiles and Chris takes a bite of ice cream. Wyatt sighs.

There are so many things that no one is ever going to say. Hidden meanings that float over everyone’s head, communication that falls short because no one will just say what they mean. Vague regrets and uneasy thoughts that fill the space between them.

But the determination in his mother’s eyes tells him something else.

They are a family.

He looks around the table. This is his own, screwed-up, torn apart family. But it’s okay.

They’re small and broken, but they’re still good.