Summary: "My name's not Chris Perry," Chris said, as if it was the hardest thing he'd ever had to say. "It's Christopher." He paused, almost reluctantly. "Christopher Halliwell."

Disclaimer: Charmed and Chris don't belong to me, doo dah, doo dah, I'm not making any money from this, oh, dah doo dah day.

Chapter The First

"What do I tell them?"

Bianca pushed the door open, peering inside. "Don't tell them anything. Just stick to your cover story. The less they know about the future, the better."

"Well, what if they find out who I really am?"

"They won't ... not as long as you can pass yourself off as their Whitelighter."

Nnnnggh. And there was the first crunch point, because they knew he wasn't a proper Whitelighter and they hadn't quite forgiven him since. Finding him with a demon in the house had just been the drop of water that overflowed the vase, or however that French proverb went.

That event, accompanied the sisters' mistrust of him, lead to them kicking him out of the house, and promising to fry him in vinegar if he ever darkened their doorstop again.

Like he'd been using the doorstep to get in. Really.

He snorted, and tried to concentrate on the task at hand. Although the first deadline had tentatively passed (disappearing like that, alone and with no one around, had been nearly as scary as coming back to the past in the first place), the second one was still approaching.

He needed to see that Book of Shadows. Unfortunately, there seemed to be no period recently when his mother and aunts weren't in the house. At least somebody was in at all times. This was probably due to Piper's pregnancy (at least he was granted relief from not seeing his own mother vomit due to his past self's presence in her womb.)

He needed their trust back desperately.

Or, the trust of someone else who could get into the house.

Chris pondered slowly on his only two options. Darryl Morris was out. Despite being tight with the girls in the future, even that relationship was currently rocky. To be honest, it gave Chris a small slither of hope, because the Charmed Ones just obviously couldn't get on with anyone at the moment. Just look at what had happened with Jason and Richard, too.

Hands in his pockets, scuffing his trainers idly on the sidewalk, he knew just who he had to go to. It left him with one rather huge problem though.

Just how to explain to his grandfather exactly why he needed his help.

Victor Bennett kicked off his aching shoes, sinking blissfully into the worn comfort of his couch. It was second-hand and scruffy, like most of his furniture, but if cheap furniture and a dodgy apartment were going to get him closer to his girls, he wasn't going to protest.

Beside, concrete would feel just as blissful to him as the lumpy seat. He'd had a hell of a day. Finding out Piper was pregnant (pregnant!) with that lousy scumbitch Leo again (again!) and then spending all day alternately worried about the story they told him of losing their heads (their heads!) and Phoebe being turned into a genie and Piper and Leo almost being lost on the ghostly plane, and worrying about their new troublesome apparently ex-Whitelighter. Not to mention having to scurry off to work thanks to an angry client.

An angry rich client. Which meant he'd have to rush on over there straight away, and he'd only just got back. The video machine blurred a lazy 1:02 am at him. No chance of a visitor, not at this time.

He closed his eyes, sinking lower into the abused piece of furniture, and yawned, lethargically. He was just starting to drift off into the fuzzy haze of a dream, when the doorbell rang.

Victor snapped one eye open, and eyeballed the door warily. The doorbell rang again, insistently. "This is not my day," he murmured absently to himself as he pushed his worn body upright. He slid off the couch as the doorbell sounded again. "All right, I'll be there in a second."

Walking over to the front door, wincing with every weary step, he opened the door, keeping the safety latch on. Eyes the colour of a calm storm blinked at him. He peered nervously at his visitor, his eyebrows knotting together as he realised that the eyes belonged to a serious looking young man, tall, six foot one in his estimation, under a mop of brown hair that Victor had the irrational sudden urge to take a comb to.

"Hi-" the young man said, spreading his hands awkwardly. "Hello, Mr. Bennett."

Victor folded his arms in what he hoped was a menacing manner. "Do you know what time it is, young man?"

His visitor exhaled hard. "Yes. It's seven weeks until your grandson Wyatt is turned evil. I'm here to stop it happening."

Victor's eyes widened in realisation. He slid off the latch, knowing now who his visitor was and knowing the latch wouldn't stop him, but he bodily stood in the doorway, a physical barrier to his ground floor apartment. "You're Chris Perry, the half Whitelighter-" (see, Patty, I can almost say it without too much venom in my voice) "-who, if I recall what my daughter said earlier yesterday put my only grandson in mortal danger."

Chris shook his head impatiently. "You're wrong."

Victor snorted in disgust. "Well, if you're here to try and get me to plead on your case to the sisters, it's not going to work. I'll tell you that now and stop you from wasting your-"

"My name's not Chris Perry."

Victor stopped, mid tirade, and blinked confusedly at his visitor. "Oh," he said, dazed. "Uh- Just forget what I said-"

"No, no, no," Chris said, almost impatient, looking up at Victor, his eyes pleading. "I am close to who you think I am. Please. I just want half an hour of your time. I know it's late, but this could be my last chance to save Wyatt."

Victor didn't budge, unconvinced. "Then convince me."

Chris shifted slightly. There was an awkward pause before he spoke. "It's about Piper's baby."

Concerned, Victor's eyes widened. The boy was from the future, after all, and would know... "What about the baby? Is Piper gonna be okay? Does something happen to it-"

"God, no," Chris said hurriedly, trying to placate him. "It comes out fi-" He caught himself, adjusted what he was about to say. "It comes out healthy."

Victor, tired and sore, decided to be forthright about it. "Well, what about Piper's baby?"

"Well..." Chris looked miserable for a second, looking at the ground shyly before looking directly at Victor. "Piper's pregnant with me."

The words hung awkwardly on the air for a second. They hit Victor hard. "With.. you? I thought she said Leo was the father." Horror swelled in his gut and he stared in shock at Chris. "Oh god. Oh god. I swear, if you-"

Obviously his mind was heading off on completely the wrong track, because Chris winced in obvious disgust. "No no no no!" Chris held up his hands. Victor's mind whirled with the possibilities of what Chris might have meant. "Eww. No. Leo is the father." He looked away again, then looked back. "I'm the baby," he added softly, almost as if couldn't believe it himself, but at the same time with a quiet determination.

"Oh, god," Victor breathed, "that's such a relief and-" Then it hit him. "Huh?"

"My name's not Chris Perry," Chris said, as if it was the hardest thing he'd ever had to say. "It's Christopher." He paused, almost reluctantly. "Christopher Halliwell."

Victor stared at him, hard. A hint of Patty stared back in the defiant angle of Chris'- Christopher's - eyebrows. It was enough to convince him that the lad deserved at least a half an hour. If not my whole life.

He hesitated for a long second, deliberating, before eventually standing back and saying, "I think you'd better come in. You and I have some serious talking to do."