Spoilers: “Chris-Crossed” and “Prince Charmed”

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Chris, Wyatt, and company belong to Constance M. Burge and Spelling Entertainment.

Author’s Note: On the show, they still haven’t told us who Chris is yet. This is just my speculative theory. Once we find out, it can be taken as AU. Thank you so much to Juanita Dark, who took the time to beta-read this fic. I owe you.

Chris Perry had never meant for any of this to happen. It was supposed to be a surgical strike. Go in, save your objective, and get out. That was the plan. However, changing the future meant changing the plan, and now he wasn’t sure how to go about his mission.

Closing his blue eyes, he lay down on the hard, cold railing of the tallest point on the Golden Gate Bridge. Leo was right; it wasn’t his trust Chris needed to regain. It was the trust of the Charmed Ones -- especially Piper’s. His mission to save Wyatt would be much more difficult if his own mother couldn’t trust him.

His older brother, Wyatt. It hurt to think about him, to think about what he had become. Did they really save him that night? Had he been able to stop Wyatt from becoming evil? He didn’t know. He couldn’t remember.

All his life, Wyatt had had a mischievous streak. Somehow, he could get around the personal gain rule and torment his little brother with his powers. Chris could even remember a time when Wyatt made him disappear for a day. He had been nine at the time, and Wyatt eleven. When he woke up that morning, he had found himself at P3. Not knowing what had happened or how he got there, he called home. As it turned out, Wyatt had gotten bored and cast a spell to get rid of his baby brother. He tried to orb back, but the spell had blocked him from the house. Finally, it had taken the Power of Three to bring him home.

But that had just been sibling rivalry, right? He wasn’t completely evil then, was he? Chris tried to remember, tried to focus on a moment when all hope seemed to be lost. The only thing he could recall was a terrified phone call from a tearful Bianca.

* * * *

“Bianca, calm down. What’s wrong?” Chris quietly asked as he closed the door to the closet. Sharing a dorm room with another guy, a mortal no less, didn’t offer a whole lot of privacy so he had put a soundproof spell on the walk-in closet. That way he could talk to his family and friends back home without worrying someone would overhear.

However, his girlfriend couldn’t stop crying, and everything she said came out in an unintelligible rush. Warning bells went off in Chris’s head. Bianca had been a trained killer for many years and had learned to hide her emotions. After knowing about her and her past for four years, he knew that something terrible had to have happened to make her cry.

He heard her took a deep breath. Silence followed on her end, and Chris assumed that she was weighing her words. It was enough to cause him to take a deep breath of his own. Slowly, she said, “They’re dead, Chris. All of them.”

Fear clutched Chris’s stomach. “Who’s dead?” It was a rhetorical question; he knew very well who she was talking about. However, part of him hoped he was wrong.

“Your mom, your dad, your aunts, your uncles. Everybody.”

Chris’s heart stopped. He set the phone down beside him, not quite knowing how to react. All his life, he knew the deaths of his family could be a real possibility, but he had been able to push the though into the back of his mind. Letting the stray tears fall down his cheeks, he picked up the phone. With his voice shaking, he asked, “And Wyatt?”

“Gone. No one has seen or heard from him.”

Damn. “You don’t think…?”

“I don’t know.” He heard her take shaky breath. When she came into his life and had turned her back on evil, she grew very close to his family. He knew she was as hurt by their deaths as he was.

Chris formed a fist, but restrained himself from punching the wall. He couldn’t afford to explain why there was a hole in his closet wall.

“Where are you?” he asked.

“Your kitchen table. Why?”

“I’m coming home. I’ll be there in a second. Just hang on.”

“Chris, don’t. What if the killer comes back?”

“Then we’ll fight him together. I’m not leaving you alone; just stay there.” Immediately, he hung up the phone and leaned against the wall for support. Everyone he ever knew and loved…dead. Wyatt…gone. What the hell was happening? He stared at the door, fiercely rubbing at his eyes. He couldn’t let anyone see him cry. It would be too hard to explain why.

Barely pulling himself together, Chris opened the door and walked back into the room. His roommate, Michael, was still at his computer, oblivious to what had happened. For a moment, he envied him his normal life. He didn’t have to live in fear that his brother may have murdered his family and could be coming for him next.

Michael looked up as Chris entered the room. “Everything all right?” he asked.

“Not really.” Chris tried to give him a half smile. “I’ve got to go home. Family emergency.”

“Jesus, man, are you sure you’re all right?” Chris knew his roommate had seen his red eyes.

Chris waved him off as he grabbed his jacket and crossed to the door. “I’ll be fine. Could you cover for me in class tomorrow?”

“Sure, man. If there’s anything I can do, let me know.”

“Thanks, man.” Chris nodded in acknowledgement and left the room. Quietly, he closed the door behind him and checked the hallway. Finding it clear, he orbed home.

When he appeared in the foyer, he found Bianca hunched over at the table. Her slender shoulders shook and her brown hair covered her face as she sobbed. Even in this moment of pain, she was a source of light in his life. Without thinking, he ran to her and wrapped his arms around her.

“I’m sorry, Chris. I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

“It’s okay. I’m here.” He pulled back and looked into her dark, red-rimmed eyes. “How did you find out?”

“Your mom had asked me to pick up some flour for her at the store. She said she couldn’t reach your aunts. By the time I got here, the doors were blown off their hinges, and it looked like a war zone. In all my years as an assassin, I had never seen so much damage. I…” she faltered.

“Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

“I found your parents’ bodies in the attic.”

Chris felt like someone had punched a hole in his heart. Trying to keep his knees from buckling, he sat down in the chair next to her. “Are they…?”

“No,” Bianca quickly said. “Several Whitelighters came and collected the bodies. They told me about your aunts and uncles.”

“How did they die?” He wasn’t sure he wanted to hear it, but he knew he had to know.

“Your mom had a blackened hole in her chest, and your dad was pierced by a Darklighter arrow.”

“Oh, my God,” was all Chris could manage. He leaned his forehead on his hand, not even bothering to stop the tears this time. “Do they know who did it?” It came out more as a sob than words, but Bianca caught it nonetheless.

“They think Wyatt was behind it.”


“The Elders.”

Hitting the dining room table with his fist, Chris could feel the anger well up inside of him. “If he did this, he’s going to pay.”

Bianca gently placed her hand over his. “He’s too powerful.”

“I don’t care!” Chris stood up, knocking the chair behind him. “I swear to God, he’ll pay.”

* * * *

Chris still intended to keep that promise. While many things had faded from his memory, the promise remained as clear as a bell.

Opening his eyes, he stared up at the stars. He was amazed at how peaceful and calm San Francisco was in 2004. He wanted it to stay that way. He intended it to stay that way.

Completely drained from the day’s events, Chris climbed down onto the beam that stretched across the bridge. Maybe he should have told the sisters up front? Maybe that could have prevented the Order from almost succeeding in converting Wyatt. But he couldn’t linger on regrets now. He had to win back their trust so they could all save his older brother. So they could save themselves.

Taking one last look at the stars, Chris breathed in the cool air. Then he orbed to his spare room in P3.


© 2004 Crimson Idealist