Good day to you, my loyal fans! After updating D2D, TTRRH, and ILY2, It is time to update my last story, Like a Story That had Just Begun. Now, I'm having SO much fun writing this story out in my head; I love Chris angst, and while there will be PLENTY of that in here, there will also be a healthy heaping of Chris happiness! Poor boy, he deserves a break!

Also, great news! Forensics season is now over (state was on the sixth) which means...lots more updates of all my stories! PLUS. Soon to come, the sequel to Paybacks are Hell, a story I wrote under my other pen name, and a brand new story I've been DYING to write!

"I've never been the kind to ever let my feelings show,

And I thought that being strong meant never lossin' your self-control,

But I'm just drunk enough, to let go of my pain,

To Hell with my pride, let it fall like rain

from my eyes,

Tonight, I wanna cry."

-Tonight I Wanna Cry, by Keith Urban


Falling...twirlingtwistingsuturning...falling down, down, faster, being pulled iminately towards earth...Chris was starting to actually feel nauseous, which was sort off a welcome feeling...seeing as he hadn't felt anything in...days? Weeks? Years! He still didn't know.

And suddenly, when he was starting to wonder how much longer he was going to fall, how much longer gravity was going to make a toy of him, he hit rock bottom.

Well, actually, it was a hard wood floor, but STILL! Hitting something that hard after falling THAT far really can put a bump on ones head!

"Ugh!" Chris ground out, one hand reaching up to clutch his aching head. He'd landed flat on his back, with nothing to break his fall but the back of his skull.

'Great!' he thought bitterly. 'Nine seconds into my New Life, and I already gave myself a fricking concussion!'

In a foul mood right off the bat, Chris pushed himself up on his elbows, then into a sitting position. His eyes blurred slightly from the motion, and he wondered briefly if there was anything in his stomach to throw up. But the vertigo passed, as did his motion sickness. And then he heard a voice...

"-Crazy! 'Cause, I'm not pregnant!"

The Hell you're not! Chris smiled to himself, his mothers voice drifting out into the hall through an open doorway. Even with it's strained tone and anxiety, Piper's voice was quite possibly the most lyrical music he'd heard in his entire life...lives...whatever...

Grabbing the hall table for support, he stood. It was about time for his to make his grand entrance...again. He turned towards the door, but stopped dead in his tracks as he caught sight of someone else standing in the hall. His heart jumped into his throat in shock, before he realized a moment later that he was seeing his own reflection in an antique mirror, once a prized possession of his grandmother.

Aside from his deer-in-the-head-lights expression, he looked about as he did before he died. His hair was longer, and he was clean shaven, but he was still lanky, under weight and a little pale.

And yet, there as something there that he couldn't remember seeing the first time around. He'd been shaking then, sweaty and more nervous then he was when he proposed to Bianca. But now, he was calmer, more peaceful, like he was on some magical form of Valium. Not that he was complaining, though. After years of waking up to knots of worry twisting in his stomach, of never really being able to shake of his feelings of dread, this newfound happiness was more than welcome.

"Because..because, because I can't!" he heard his mother cry desperately, clearly at her wits end.

"And that's my cue," Chris whispered quietly to himself. He took a deep breath, and walked slowly over to his mothers room.

The door was ajar, just as he'd remembered. He rapped his knuckles softly against the door frame, and took a step forward.

"This a bad time?" he asked the now silent room. And suddenly, some of his calm left him. The look of complete shock on her face jarred him some how...

He'd remembered the look his mother had given him nine months ago, the very same she wore now. Her jaw slack, her sable eyes wide with disbelief. He'd been about ready to have a panic attack then. He could just imagine her yelling at him to leave, that she didn't want him. He'd harbored an abandonment complex all his life, constantly afraid that his family, his friends, the people who he loved the most, would just one day decide they didn't love him back, and would leave him. Even his mother. ESPECIALLY his mother.

But she hadn't. She'd looked at him with that bucket-of-ice-water face for what seemed like an eternity. Aunt Phoebe and Paige and politely excused themselves from the room, just as they where doing now. And Mom...after what could have been thirty seconds or thirty years, he wasn't sure, had finally broken out of her stupor, stepped forward, and said...

"Oh my fucking God"

Yes, his mother, the all powerful Piper Halliwell, cookie-baking, costume-sewing Mother of two, had said the F-word. The first time, Chris had actually been shocked; his mother NEVER swore like that. This time around, however, it brought a small grin to his face.

He stood there, worrying his hands, wringing them, more for show than anything else. It was so bazaar, knowing what was going to happen before it even happened.

Piper took another hesitant step forward. Chris remembered this, too. She'd stand there for a few more moments, then she'd whisper, 'They were telling the truth, weren't they?' as if she had expected this all to be a jolly practical joke. He'd nodded his head once, keeping his eyes down. It had all just been so awkward. Definitely not an experience he wished to repeat...

Then it hit him; he DIDN'T have to repeat it. The whole reason he was here, alive, was to change things, to make his life out to be everything he had wanted. Starting now.

"They were telling the truth, weren't they?" Just as he'd recollected, Piper softly whispered those words, her voice trembling slightly. But instead of just standing there like a stone this time, he did the one thing he would never have dared to do nine months ago. Yet, the one thing he'd wanted to do more than anything...

He closed the gap between them in two brisk strides and, giving up all inhibitions, all pride, wrapped his long arms around his mother, pulling himself close against her.

Now, Chris was a lot of things. A martyr, a neurotic, maybe even a schizo at times. But one thing that Christopher Halliwell had never been was a cryer. Well, until now.

Because as he stood there with his mother, a woman he'd had to basically grow up without, he just broke down. It seemed like it was yet to set in, the fact that he was given a chance that every dying person in the world has fantasized about. He, of all people, was aloud to go back, to make up for lost time, those four months that he'd avoided his mother, the six that he'd spent utterly loathing the very name 'Leo Wyatt'. And standing there, hunched over, breathing in the scent of his mothers perfume, the word 'home' took on a meaning that could never be written in any dictionary.

After a moment, though, he realized, with a hint of panic, that while he was standing there, his arms flung around Pipers shoulders, trying to keep himself from sobbing out loud, that Mom wasn't responding. She just stood there, probably wondering what kind of liquor her obsessive-compulsive whitelighter had gotten into. After all, he rationed, it wasn't every day that a cross-bred witch from the future flings his arms around you and starts blubbering on your new blouse. (But hey, Chris thought. It's an ugly blouse anyway)

But just as he was about to pull away, he felt her arms, unsure at first, encircle him around the chest. Which only made him cry harder. He felt rather ashamed of himself actually. He'd always prided himself in his strength, never letting any one see how he really felt, and here he was! Blubbering in front of a woman who was probably two minutes away from calling San Francisco Psychiatric care.

But she didn't. In fact, she did the one thing, the ONE THING, left to do that could break Chris's wall down any more. She reached one hand up and ran it softly through his long hair.

"It-it's ok, Chris. It's alright..." She didn't have much confidence in her voice, but who would, after finding out that a man she almost hated was actually her second-born son?

"I-I-I missed yyyou so m-much!" he whispered fervently between sobs. It was something he'd always wanted to say to her, but he just couldn't before. Fear of upsetting her had stopped him cold.

And any doubt that Piper Halliwell had left in her mind instantly went 'poof!' She gently pulled away, holding Chris at arms length; he was a mess. His green eyes were red and swollen, water streaming down his pale cheeks. His nose was crimson, just like hers was when she got, right now, for instance.

"Look at you," she said, trying to sound casual. "You're a wreck!" Kinda rude to say to your newly discovered child, but Piper always told it like it is.

Chris smiled softly; that was such a Piper thing to say. Even comments about his not-so-great appearance had him thanking the Elders for their decision.

And he doubted that a day would pass that he wouldn't.


Paige and Phoebe had gone out to a movie that evening, and had left Wyatt at Magic school, leaving Chris and Piper alone (quite purposely, he thought) in the manor.

Piper was downstairs fixing a late dinner, and Chris was up in the attic, sitting on an old sofa that had once belonged to an aunt...Peggy? No, no...Pricila? Nah, that wasn't it...wait, who cared! It wasn't a very comfortable couch; springs poked up though broke-down styrofoam cushions, and the back was basically a pretty piece of wood, yet Chris Halliwell had a giddy grin on his face. So Giddy, that if he grew his hair out a bit longer, her could be mistaken for a love-struck teenage girl.

It was almost eight now, and getting dark. A small sliver of maroon sunlight could be seen over the horizon, and a half moon was making it's way steadily upward.

Chris had been sitting on that couch for twenty minutes now, just...thinking. He had plenty of time to do that now. The Elders had been right; he was more calm right now than he'd been since he was 14. He wasn't anxious about Wyatt turning evil; he knew that would sort itself out in nine months. He had close to a year to restart a relationship with his family. To sleep in, stay up late, because he wanted to, not because midnight was a prime demon-hunting time.

Things had been a little awkward since this afternoon; even knowing the future, he couldn't change that! Mom had led him into her bathroom, sat him down on the edge of the tup, and filled the sink with cool water. She rummaged around for a wash cloth, dipped it in the water, and settled herself down next to him.

"Here, hold still," she instructed, her voice soft. She ran the damp cloth over his red eyes, cheeks. It was silent, and not a good silent. More of a well, this is uncomfortable silence.

Then, on the spur of a moment, Piper blurt out, "Why didn't you tell us?"

Well, demanded, actually.

And for the first time, Piper saw Chris laugh. Genuinely laugh.

"What was I supposed to do?" he asked, "Go up to you in the attic and say, 'By the way, you shouldn't make any plans for November 20th next year. Why? Oh, nothin'. You'll just be giving birth to me, that's all" You would have blew me up on the spot!"

Piper grinned, and blushed a little. It was an obvious answer.

"And besides," Chris continued, a little more hesitant now. "I just...really couldn't tell you...I mean,..." Chris seemed to struggle with how to word this. It was something he didn't want to keep from Piper this time around, but still..."I mean, if you went back thirty years, and told Grandma you where her daughter, what do you think she'd do?"

Piper smiled, chuckling at the mental image. "She wouldn't believe me, think I was evil, and tell me to get the hell out of" but her voice trailed off, and her eyes got wide as silver dollars.

"Oh my God..." she said it more to herself than to Chris.

Chris tilted his head, as he always did when he was puzzled. "Pi-Mom, what's the matter?"

But Piper didn't respond. She was looking at Chris with a mix of shock, fear, and, judging by the tears welling in her eyes, sadness.

"Mom, what is it? What's wrong?" Pipers lack of response was beginning to worry Chris.

"Oh my God, I'm sorry, I'm SO sorry, I didn't..."

"Sorry for what!" Chris interrupted, now thoroughly agitated. There was definitely something wrong here, and Chris was quite sure he wasn't going to like what his mother was apologizing for.

Piper looked up at her son with tears streaming down her cheeks. "I told you to get out of my house." she whispered, her voice cracking. "I told you I never wanted to see you again!"

And a little bit of Chris's giddy mood molded. The right thing to do would be to tell her, 'No no! It's fine! It was a mistake!' But...but it had hurt, when she'd said that. It was his worst fear brought to life. When he'd heard her say that she never wanted to see him again, it was like his entire world, every last shred of hope left in his battered heart had withered away.

But now wasn't the time to think about past pain. It was an entirely different life time.

"Mom, were upset. You didn't know..."

"So what!" Piper broke in, her voice over emotional now. "That didn't give me the right to treat you like that!"

Chris was lost at this point; his mother was bordering on hysterics, and di he know what to do?

Hell, no.

But suddenly, Piper seemed to pull herself together long enough to quickly seize him around the neck, drawing his tall form close to her. So quickly in fact, that Chris thought for a moment that he'd need to see a doctor for whiplash.

"I'm so sorry, but I'm going to make it up to you, I swear to God!" Chris tried object, but his face was busy being squashed against his shoulder.

'Seven hours pregnant, and the hormones have already struck,' he thought riley.

"I'll make it up to you," piper promised again, planting a soft kiss on top of his unruly hair. And just as Chris had started to relax into her embrace, she jumped up suddenly as if she'd his bitten by something. When Chris looked up, he saw a bit befunndled to see her face had turned rather stern. Yet, soft, worried...

"When was the last time you ate? Look at you, Phoebe has more weight on her than you! I'll go fix dinner...wait, what do you like to eat? Oh, never mind, I'll just fix a little of everything..." and she continued to chat away to herself, leaving a stunned Chris sitting on the ledge on the bath tub.

"Yeaaahhh...definitely the hormones..."


I'm sorry if this chapter seems a bit...dry. But it's a filler. Just getting the whole "Youre my son?" "Yeah" "Why didn't you tell us" stuff outta the way.

Until next time (which I think will be either TTRRH or ILY2)

Lottsa love!