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All the air left his lungs as he landed flat on his back on a grassy slope. Gasping, Leo Wyatt took a moment to try to get his bearings - he felt magic again, which meant they had managed to fling themselves through the portal just in time. He still felt bruised, but immensely relieved not to be facing imminent death as dinosaur food. As he regained his breath staring up at the sky, he heard Chris grunt.
“Thanks for not listening to me,” he admitted. Somewhat ashamed, Leo thought that he might, just might, have actually left Chris there to manage on his own if the tables were turned. Valhalla really had left its mark.
Leo heard an almost strangled wheeze from where Chris lay behind him, and realized that he’d yet to receive an answer to his genuine but flippant remark. He sat gingerly and turned, then immediately flung himself around on his knees at Chris’ side.
The younger whitelighter was lying completely still, his hands clenched white in the grass and agony etched on his face. It wasn’t hard to see why - his right leg had been shredded from the mid-thigh down. The knee was bent wrong, and Leo couldn’t see if his foot was even still there because the ankle was so bloody and mangled. Chris had his eyes shut tight, breathing in short, ragged gasps as he desperately tried to control the pain.
Leo grimaced. He’d slipped, and Chris had tarried long enough to push Leo through the portal first; the dinosaur’s teeth must have snagged Chris’ leg as he finally went through. Time portals tended to suck you in once you breached the surface, which was probably the only reason Chris himself wasn’t still in Jurassic Park being eaten. Leo laid his hand gently on Chris’s shoulder. Sometimes intense pain like this could interfere with a whitelighter’s ability to deal with non-magical injuries; he had to get Chris to push through it.
“Chris, you have to self-heal. I know it’s painful, but you can do it.” Leo tried to coax Chris to activate the power of self-preservation all whitelighters had. Being already dead, as long as magic was around they weren’t susceptible to things that would kill mortals or even witches, but it took effort.
Chris slit his eyes open a mere fraction, still overwhelmed by what must have felt like torture in his leg. He sucked in a strained breath, and barely squeezed out one soft word, “Can’t.”
“Yes you can, Chris, just focus and everything will be good as new.” Leo had had something like this happen in his third year as a young whitelighter, and knew that however hard it was, it was best if Chris did it himself - it would make him more prepared the next time.
Chris merely shook his head shortly, his face even more pained. A couple of tears leaked from his eyes, as he tried again to speak.
“...can’t,” he whispered again, “not … a whitelighter...” Even that much took energy out of him and his face paled even more.
Not a whitelighter? What on earth? Leo just stared at him, not comprehending at first. Of course he was a whitelighter, he’d been the Charmed Ones’ whitelighter for months now. But then, Leo remembered that Chris had already admitted to not being able to heal others - healing their charges was one of a whitelighter’s primary responsibilities, and Leo had been distressed to learn that Chris couldn't. He’d claimed the future was so crazy with so few Elders left after the Titans’ attack, that no one had been around with enough time to teach him. But now…
Chris’s breathing hitched again, and he whispered, his voice strained almost to breaking, “Leo, please...”
Leo understood with a start that Chris was begging Leo to heal him, which meant he couldn’t heal himself. If he wasn’t a whitelighter … Leo’s eyes widened in shock as it all fell into place. He must be another hybrid, then, like Paige. He could orb, but he couldn’t heal, and he hadn’t died.
Oh no. Leo realized with a sinking feeling that Chris was very much still alive, and he was feeling every bit of his mangled leg just like a mortal or a witch would. And he was currently bleeding to death - the grass was already slick with blood.
Leo immediately held out his hands. He would certainly have it out with the young man about his seemingly endless lies, about his very nature no less, but Leo had no wish to see him die right in front of him. Unfortunately, before he could start he suddenly found himself face to face with the business end of a bayonet. Shocked, he looked up at the soldiers that were now surrounding the two of them. In his concentration on Chris, he hadn’t noticed them arriving.
Damnit, Leo thought. If he healed Chris now, magic would be out. He eyed the soldier’s uniforms - they looked 19th century. Judging by the color and insignia … Confederate soldiers from the Civil War.
The one pointing the bayonet at his face looked down with a suspicious appraisal. “Where’d y’all come from? This here is inside the perimeter, and I don’t recall hearing tell of yer approach,” he said with a drawl.
Leo looked around, then, and observed some tents on the other side of a nest of trees. They must have landed just inside the line of sentries that would be posted on the outskirts of any military encampment.
He looked back at the man who had spoken, who wore sergeant’s stripes. Trying to think of a way to get out of this mess with Chris completely out of commission, he raised his hands placatingly. “I don’t know about the sentries,” he lied, “I was just trying to get help for my friend and saw your camp.” He gestured down at Chris, who had his eyes screwed shut again.
The man looked down at Chris’ leg with not even the barest hint of compassion. Leo figured he’d probably seen much worse as a soldier, but the coldness of the glance was worrying. The sergeant looked up at him again, eyes narrowed.
“You carried him here?”
Unfortunately, Leo was not a very good liar, or at the very least he was out of practice, and the man was no fool. If Leo had carried Chris in this condition, he would have been covered in blood and he wasn’t. The lack of a blood trail would also need to be explained. His attempt at deception notwithstanding, Leo was suddenly much more concerned with the outright pool of blood that was forming, and how Chris’ complexion had faded even more in only a minute or two. His eyes were fluttering like he was barely conscious.
Leo looked around, worried, and counted the soldiers. Five, there were five of them. Five might be an acceptable exposure - hallucinations were not uncommon among soldiers in the field, especially with the rate of infection being what it was and little understanding of traumatic stress disorders at this point in history. Or even better, perhaps one of the whitelighters from this time would fix things with memory dust later. Regardless, if Leo tried to go along with these men there was no way that Chris would survive. Even if they took him to their medic right away, presuming this camp even had one, a doctor from the 1860s would take one look at the leg and promptly chop it off.
No, he had to get them both out of here, exposure be damned. One of the soldiers gave him his opening by toeing Chris in the side, who whimpered pathetically. Leo put down one of his hands, ostensibly to give Chris a comforting pat on the shoulder, and by the time the sergeant objected Leo had made contact and dissolved both of them in blue orbs.
He reformed in a copse of trees he’d seen from his brief look around, away from the camp by about two miles. Chris cried out softly as the change in terrain jostled his leg, then relaxed as the pain finally pushed him into unconsciousness. Leo heard shouts in the distance after their magical disappearing act, but he wasn't worried - he didn't need long. He focused again on Chris’ leg, holding out his hands and letting the golden light flow. He felt the broken bones knit and the torn flesh mend, and restored the blood that had been lost.
Chris gasped and took deep, shaking breaths as Leo finished, seeing Chris’ leg once more whole and his foot firmly attached where it should be. He opened his eyes and looked in relief up at the branches of the tree they were under. Leo leaned back as Chris sat up and looked gratefully at his healed extremity, flexing his right foot as if to bring feeling into it, or perhaps assure himself that it was really there. He heaved a great sigh then looked at Leo with a mix of embarrassment and relief.
“Thanks, I …” he trailed off, then looked back down at his leg. “Thanks.”
Leo crossed his arms, but his voice wasn’t angry. “Well, as I said before, thanks for saving my life. The least I could do is save your leg.”
Chris looked around, and narrowed his eyes up at the tree. “Were we always here? I thought I saw the sky.”
He must have been out of it from the pain, Leo thought. He stood and turned back toward the camp. “Actually,” he said, “we were over there.” He gestured to where the camp was now humming with activity, probably due to their magical disappearance. “And we should probably get further away from here.”
Chris joined him and looked where Leo was pointing. “Is that a military camp?” He frowned. “Wait, were there soldiers there?”
Leo grimaced. “Yep. I uh…” he faltered for only a moment, seeing an opportunity to start the discussion he was itching to have with the younger whitelighter. Part whitelighter. “I orbed us out.”
“You orbed in front of people?”
Leo folded his arms. “Five soldiers, and I think under the circumstances I can be forgiven. Seeing as you would have died if I hadn’t. And by died, I mean for the first time, don’t I?”
Chris’ eyes only widened momentarily before his face shut down and he looked away.
“Why?” Leo demanded, suddenly angry now that imminent death wasn’t hanging over anybody. “Why did you lie? You’re not a real whitelighter. If I’d known that I wouldn’t have wasted precious time trying to get you to self-heal.”
Chris looked back at him with a defiant expression on his face. “If you’d known that, would you have let me stay on as whitelighter to the sisters? Or Wyatt?” Upon Leo’s scowl, he answered his own question. “That’s what I thought. I needed to stay near Wyatt, to be able to protect him.”
“It’s not your job to protect him, it’s mine and it’s Piper’s and his aunts. How can we do that if you only tell us lies?”
Chris just shook his head and looked away.
Leo huffed in frustration, and crossed his arms again. “So,” he said, “how about the truth. I need to know what I’m dealing with.”
An incredulous stare was his reply. “What, am I a demon now?” Chris said in surprise. “You have to figure out what kind I am so you can vanquish me?” There was something in his voice that sounded suspiciously like hurt, but Leo didn’t care to dwell on it.
“I need to know what powers you have so I know what you’re capable of, or not as the case may be.” Leo gestured at Chris’ leg to make his point.
Chris frowned and just looked away again, toward the camp. “They’re probably going to come out looking for us momentarily, we should leave,” he said.
Leo stood his ground, arms still crossed. “Mortal or witch?” he said evenly.
Chris looked back at him, not trying to pretend he didn’t understand. “Does it matter? I thought in this new day and age we’re not supposed to discriminate based on heritage.”
Leo shook his head. “When we’re talking about mortals, that’s true. But in magic it matters, so answer the question. Mortal or witch?”
Running a hand over his face, Chris reluctantly answered softly. “If I say witch, are you going to go running to the other Elders and try to figure out who my parents are so you can separate them?” He looked back at Leo as if he expected something akin to betrayal.
Leo stared back, aghast. He and Chris didn't get along, but such a thing was too low to even comprehend. “Why on earth would I do that? As much as I despise your lies, Chris, I just saved your life. I don’t particularly feel the need to erase you from existence.” Chris just looked down and away with an unfathomable expression.
“So,” Leo ventured, “I take it that it’s witch then.” At Chris’ ever-so-slight nod, he continued. “So, witch power? I gather you’ve been hiding whatever it is.”
Chris shook his head. “No, Leo, I can’t tell you. You know as well as I do that witch powers identify bloodlines. It would reveal too much about the future.”
Leo threw up his hands in frustration, “How can you expect us to trust you if you aren’t even honest with us about yourself, Chris?!”
Suddenly Chris crossed the distance between them and looked Leo straight in the eyes. “I can’t. I can’t expect you to trust me with what I’ve given you, and I know it. But I’m asking you to anyway. Because whether you trust me or not, I only have the best interest of Wyatt at heart. Of the world at heart. And without me you’ll fail, because you failed the first time.”
Leo had never heard Chris speak so earnestly, and it caught him off guard. But Chris wasn’t even finished.
“If a point comes where I have to use my power to help you, to save you or to save the sisters, and most especially to save Wyatt, I won’t hesitate to do so. On that you have my word. I understand that that might not seem like it means much right now, but I have never gone back on my word once I give it, ever.”
Leo didn’t know why, but he believed Chris. He believed Chris about this. He looked straight back into the earnest green eyes, and a bewildering sense of familiarity washed over him. He just knew that no matter what else he distrusted about Chris, he knew that Chris would never hurt Wyatt or the sisters, at least not deliberately.
Why did his stubborn determination suddenly seem familiar instead of aggravating?
Leo pushed the thought away and simply gave Chris a nod of acknowledgement. “Alright. I’ll take your word and hold you to it.”
He looked around and, seeing a platoon of soldiers headed for the copse they were in, said, “So I guess we better work on getting back to that portal, huh?”
Chris smiled grimly, seemingly grateful for the truce he recognized had just been put into place. He followed Leo’s gaze and agreed, “Yeah, I’d rather not have a perfectly good leg amputated.”
An understanding passed between the two men, and they orbed out together.