Disclaimer: I do not own Charmed or any of its characters. (Shocking, I know;)
Author's Note: Hi everyone!
Another idea popped into my head. I'm back to Chris now... for those of you keeping up with me... and my jumping around. )
I'm still going to work on my Cole story though, so don't worry.
And my other Chris story... oh, it's actually two Chris stories... isn't it?
I realize I haven't finished a single one of my Charmed stories (except for one-shot's) and I'm sorry about that... but on the bright side... I'm finished with finals so I might actually be able to end one this summer!
Or maybe two! who knows:)
Anyway, this one might be stretch... but I'm a sucker for the mother-son relationship.
Things you need to know:
1) It takes place after "Criss-crossed."
2) "Witch-stock" never happened. (I didn't like that episode and it would do nothing for my story)
3) That means we moved directly from "Criss-crossed" to "Prince Charmed" - which tranlates as Chris having had a really crappy couple of weeks.
4) This story is written in first person. It's my first Charmed in that style, so I'm a little shaky... and of course... I'm not a guy, so I don't actually know what goes on in a guys head. I'm just guessing, so bear with me.
5) And last but not least... the story is starting off pretty dark... but I think I'm going to work my way to a light-hearted fic. My other Charmed fics are all headed to dark places so this is going for the opposite.
Okay that's it.
I hope you like.
I just need one moment.
If I don't get it… I think… I won't be able to continue this… this mission.
I didn't think it was curse before. I thought it was hope. The only hope.
But I know now, that I cursed myself.
I brought myself to hell. Sure I was already living in one, but somehow… this one hurts more. At least before I knew they loved me. They were mostly dead, but still whether dead or alive I knew my family loved.
Wyatt was the exception; of course Wyatt stopped being family a long time ago.
It hurts so much; every breath I take I see her gasping her last, every time I close my eyes I see the pain in hers, every time I want to give up I hear her words telling me not to.
Telling me to finish.
I can't stop – I have to finish; but I can't go on – it hurts too much.
It isn't right. I wouldn't be here without her; I never would have had the strength. She got me here and now… now she'll never reap the rewards… we'll never reap the rewards.
He killed her. It shouldn't surprise me though; he's killed others I loved. And every time my eyes close, I see one of them. One of the people I love dieing by his hand. It would be so simple to save all those people.
To end the suffering.
The child trusts me.
It would be so easy.
One life, the life of a tyrant, in exchange for the lives of hundred, thousands even. The equivalent of killing a young Hitler to prevent the Holocaust.
Bianca could live.
My family could live.
Most of my family; Wyatt had stopped being family, right?
But I couldn't.
I was weak.
I am weak.
This isn't Hitler. This is Wyatt. And in my selfishness, I want by big brother. I need him.
But it still hurts, it hurts so much.
And they don't care. That hurts too. No matter where I turn there is hurt.
They don't care about my sadness, my hurt; they don't see that it's devouring me whole, leaving nothing behind… taking everything I have to give.
They don't care -- because I'm not one of them. I'm not theirs anymore. I may never be.
They distrust me, avoid me, dislike me.
Their darling baby boy.
I should have been prepared for that. I wasn't, though.
I'm not ready for the looks I get, or the sharp words; I should be, but even now, when I should be used to it, when it no longer shocks me… even now their actions, their words still cut. The wounds bleed and don't have time to scab over before they're re-opened.
Bianca is dead.
I have no one. I've lost everything, everyone.
I am alone. Completely, utterly alone and standing here in the center of the attic; the home I grew up in, a home that has been barred off to me for so long; at the bosom of my family, the core of the power that courses through my veins I can feel myself eroding away.
The Halliwell courage, stubbornness, and determination can see you through only so far; it needs the blood bonds to support it – and I have none left. All my bonds have been cut.
I have nothing left to give, yet so much left to do.
I can't give up, though.
I need to find strength, from somewhere…
I just need one moment.
One moment where I can let go, one moment where I don't have to be strong…
"I call forth from space time
The Mother I seek from the Halliwell line
Hear these words, hear my cry
Spirit from the other side
Come to me, I summon thee
Cross now the great divide."
I shouldn't do this. I know that. If anyone knows the consequences of things like this it's me. Even before everything went to hell I was always conscious of the rules. Always sure to not make a mistake… to not take advantage…
Of course look where that's gotten me… just another hell.
White specks appeared within the circle and slowly formed into a being.
Just one moment.
That all I needed.
One moment in her arms.
The being materialized, a lovingly concerned expression on her face, "Oh baby," she whispered, stepping out of the circle into corporeal form and holding her arms wide open.
I walked into them without hesitation.