InsaneJournal

Who: young!Chris; with appearances from Piper, Wyatt, and Leo.
What: A bittersweet homecoming.
Where: San Francisco, the Halliwell manor.
When: In Vas - Day 25; For him - Autumn, 2013.
Rating: PG.
Status: Closed, complete.



When Chris opened his eyes, he wasn't sure what he expected to see. The past few days had been crazy, and that wasn't even counting before he became ill. He certainly wasn't expecting --

"Chris! Your breakfast is getting cold!"

He blinked, hard, then jerked upright in bed. That was Piper's voice. Her cheery, very alive, voice. Was this another hallucination? The wallpaper he found himself staring at was the same kind that had been in his bedroom growing up and his eyes widened. "No way." Was he... home? He hastily threw off the covers and turned to get up and out of bed, only to find his feet just barely hung above the floor. "Oh, you've got to be kidding me." he practically moaned, only to make a face at the childish voice that reached his own ears. Hopping from the bed, he padded over to the small mirror that hung in the room and found himself staring at his younger self. His eight-year-old self, to be exact. A quick tug of his hair and pinch of his arm confirmed that the mirror wasn't lying and what he was seeing was real. Though he poked the mirror too, and lifted it from the wall to check behind it just to be sure. How was this possible? Of course, even as part of his mind tried to work out the possible logic, there was another part that was a little more focused on the voice he'd heard and what it meant.

"Honey, I know it's Saturday but it's not like you to sleep in." Chris turned around from the mirror as Piper's voice came from the hallway, getting louder as she pushed open the door to his room. A wave of emotion washed over him -- mostly relief -- and he was across the room in an instant, throwing his arms around Piper's waist with enough force she had to steady herself with a hand against the door frame. "Chris? Is everything alright?"

With his face buried in her shirt he squeezed his eyes shut, allowing himself a tear or two as he felt his mother's hand reassuringly stroke over his hair. "It is now." he murmured, hugging her tight for a few moments more. His mind was spinning. What did he say? How did he act? Was this really the world he had known as a child? Did anything really matter other than Piper was alive and well right in this moment? When he heard her prompt him again Chris forced himself to lighten his hold and pull back, glistening green eyes staring up at Piper as he tilted his head back. "I love you, mom."

"I love you too, Chris. Are you sure you're okay? Did you have another nightmare?"

He was so relieved to see her that no embarrassment came from the mention of the occasional nightmares he had been plagued with since he was a child. It was never mentioned that Wyatt, more than the stressful conditions of being a Halliwell witch, was the cause of such nightmares. Even as a child Chris had known he likely wouldn't be believed, and that any outcome wasn't going to be in his favor considering the way his brother acted whenever he was caught bullying him.

As he followed his mother downstairs to the kitchen he tried to quiet his thoughts, quiet the mess of questions whirling through his mind. Was everything the way he remembered, like he had been sent back to a point in time? Or was it more like a parallel universe?... except that wouldn't explain why he was physically younger but not mentally. How long would it last, would he be here like this? Was there anything his mother or aunts could do? Would they even believe an eight-year-old? After all, in his experience when people got sent back to prior times they were themselves at that age, body and mind. A glance in the parlor showed his older brother sitting in front of the television watching cartoons, paying no mind to anyone but himself. Chris saw no need to subject himself to that, and he wanted to stay near Piper besides. So he sat himself at table in the dining room where he could still see his mother as he ate (earning a few curious remarks that he was eating like he was starved), and then lingered in the kitchen helping her until she shooed him out, insisting he should go play. Around then Leo orbed in, no doubt to check on Wyatt though Chris did catch quiet words about a tense situation with demons a few days earlier, and it was the turbulent emotions the mere appearance of his father stirred that finally had Chris leaving his mother's side, retreating upstairs.

It was beyond frustrating. Should he believe that this was indeed as real as it seemed? Chris had to. He was an adult trapped in a child's body, and that adult happened to have damned good senses, which were telling him that this was indeed real. That he was in his past, his childhood. Whether he would remember it he didn't know, but Chris was betting he would, given that the images of his mother as a zombie were still not very far from his thoughts. But he had that all locked down tight at the moment, as well as the worry churning in his gut for his new friends. Had they too been sent to some point in their lives? Or were they still in the glass prison, worried about him? Or... maybe they weren't worried. He had disappeared for awhile the day before, though he hadn't meant to, though he apologized for his magic acting up against his will. Perhaps they thought his magic was on the fritz again. Or maybe they just don't care. Chris shook his head hard, trying to push aside such thoughts. Funny how being home for just a few hours could almost immediately start to undo the work the last year and change had done on his psyche.

Focus. He needed to focus. In the likelihood that he wouldn't be here long, and the hopes that he would remember what transpired while he was there, what could help him? The answer was obvious.

Sneaking up to the attic had never particularly been hard. It was more a matter of it so rarely not having anyone in it. There was never any shortage of people and creatures after the Charmed Ones, or Wyatt. Occasionally him too, more because he was a Charmed One's child than because he was seen to have any real value. That morning when he crept up there it was empty, if a little messy with items still on a table likely from the last vanquishing potion the sisters had to make, but Chris didn't pay any of that any mind, instead going straight to the Book of Shadows. Well, after he pulled a chair over for him to climb up on so he could reach the Book. Normally he would have just orbed one but he wasn't sure if his magic was that of his current or younger self and he didn't want to risk the orbing catching anyone's attention.

He didn't know how long he'd been flipping through the worn pages, searching for anything useful -- finding the time travel spell in particular would be nice, but he honestly wasn't sure if it had been written into the Book yet -- when the quiet was inevitably interrupted.

"What're you doing, Chris?"

His head jerked up at the sound of his brother's voice and he spotted Wyatt walking into the attic. "You know you're not supposed to touch the Book."

"Neither are you." he snapped, though it came out bratty given his younger voice. Chris kind of anticipated the chair disappearing from under him but still grunted when he hit the hardwood floor. It had never been good to provoke his older brother, even when they were this young. His older self wanted to lash out, but he knew it wouldn't do any good. Nor would it make him feel better when he thought on it later. Instead he glared back at his older brother, and thanked the gods when their mother yelled for Wyatt.

As soon as he was left alone Chris let out a heavy sigh, and orbed himself to his bedroom. At least his magic was reliable enough at the moment for that. He knew Wyatt was happily tattling on him -- Chris could practically hear him downstairs -- but he didn't care. There were worse things than getting scolded by their mother.

Far, far worse things.