Author's Note: I know it's been done before, but I thought it would be fun to write myself.


The Internal Struggles of Christopher Halliwell

Chapter one:

How it Began

It started when he was one.

Well, no, you could say it started when he died.

Christopher Perry laid in his mother's bed, faced with his own mortality. He thought it was funny, dying by the hands of an Elder. His mother always thought they were evil. Well, she didn't say evil, per se, more like, "conniving little bastard assholes". Chris had grinned at the thought. His mother swore like a sailor when she was angry.

The humor quickly disappeared, though, when he started to muse what came next. He knew Heaven, or whatever the hell you wanted to call it, existed, but would he go there? He didn't belong in this time. Would he go back to the future? Would he be reborn into mini him, forced to relive his life all over again in a tiny body? What a disgusting thought, being trapped in a baby shell while having the mind of a twenty-three-year-old. Or would he simply not exist? The infant that was making it's way out of Piper's uterus...were they even the same person?

But his thoughts didn't really matter. What mattered was the fact that he died. Leo knelt by his side and Paige stood in the doorway, tears of grief rolling down their faces as the poison finally overcame him and his body faded into nothing.

They were the same person. Adult Chris's essence was merged with infant Chris, his memory wiped clean. Chris got his wish. He got to experience the time line that he changed.

The Elders had stood Up There, proud of themselves. Proud of Christopher. He may have been a Charmed pain in the ass, but he was a noble Charmed pain in the ass. He died for the world.

But they soon realized their mistake. Yes, Chris got to experience the time line he changed, but he didn't know that he changed it to begin with.

They took a vote. Return his memories or leave him ignorant.

With the help of some higher powers, they were able to obtain Chris's memories (Although they couldn't watch it themselves, even though they really wanted to).

If you look at it this way, it really started when he died. But then, you could also consider it this way:

It started when he was one. Now, of course, he didn't remember this. Details get fuzzy and they soon slip away all together. But when they first gave him his memories, it was when other Chris was one.

It was nothing significant, really just colors and emotions. He smelled the melting chocolate of cookies and the smell of his mother—cinnamon. That wasn't unusual, he smelled it anyway. What was missing was the cologne of his father. The flash of short blonde/brown hair and the deep coos of a masculine voice.

He didn't remember this. He was one for Christ's sake, but it was how it was started. It was how it began.


Author's Note: Anybody interested?