Chapter Text
Voiceless
Part 1
Victor was enjoying a cup of coffee when he saw Chris orb in.
At first, he smiled, because even though he loved all of his grandkids equally, he still favored slightly the second one. Chris took after Prue, but he recognized a bit of himself in him too. Then, he spotted the red cheek, blood on his trousers, the fact that he was actually drenched to the bone –it was raining pretty hard outside -and jumped on his chair, fearing the worse.
“Chris, you’re hurt?” he blurted, running to him, touching him everywhere to find where the wound came from. He didn’t look injured though, which frightened him even more. And when he finally met his eyes –dulled, dazed, empty eyes –
“Mom’s dead,” Chris said flatly. Two words. Two damn words that made Victor’s knees buckled and his mind blank.
“No,” he started, not wanting to believe. Piper was one of the strongest witches of her generation. She couldn’t die. Not like that. “No, Chris, it’s not true, is it? W-what happened? Were you there?”
Chris sniffed and his eyes were filling with tears. His grandson wouldn’t lie, not about something like that. And that meant that…
“Oh god,” he whispered and dropped his arms in defeat. First Prue. Now Piper. Two daughters, gone far too young. And... “Was it a demon?”
Chris nodded and began shaking. He suddenly fell to his knees and Victor had to thank his old reflexes for catching him before he hit his head on the floor. Chris held onto him tightly in a surprisingly strong grip, and Victor realized –he had seen. That boy had just seen his mother die and-
“I’m sorry,” he blurted into his shirt. “I’m so sorry. I couldn’t save her.”
“What?” Save her? Chris? Against a demon? The same kind of creature that killed his ex-wife? “What are you talking about?”
“She was still alive when I went in the attic,” he babbled, still shaking, hiccupping and sobbing now. “I couldn’t heal her, Gramps. I couldn’t heal her. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
Victor held him tighter. He thought he should say something, but the shock…he couldn’t find the words. He could only hold Chris until he calmed down.
He was still processing the news when Paige and Wyatt orbed in.
Two daughters dead. One left. Well, he thought, watching Paige’s red eyes and trembling lips. One and a half. Paige wasn’t his blood, but in another life, if he and Patty had stayed together, maybe she could have been. She appeared lost and small and fragile. Just like the girls had, when Prue…He focused on Wyatt next. His eldest grandson was a mess –wild eyes, hair in disarray, and fully panicked.
“Is Chris here?” he asked with a hint of despair. Victor nodded and pointed at the living room. He departed immediately, barely sparing him another glance. He wasn’t offended. The two brothers were very close. They had a bound, Piper used to say fondly, and Wyatt was very protective of Chris. The early sibling rivalry had faded a long time ago.
He swallowed hard and stood up. Paige remained here, frozen, absent, also surprisingly relieved.
"He didn’t tell us where he was going when he orbed out earlier. Scrying didn’t work. We’ve been looking for him everywhere. How is he?" she asked quietly. Victor sighed and ran a hand in his hair.
"In shock, I think. He fainted earlier, hasn't woken up yet. It's been a long day for him." He paused, closed his eyes. "And it's his birthday." Paige made a strangled sound and her eyes welled up with tears. “Chris didn’t say much about what happened.” He needed to talk, even about this, else he’d break, and he didn’t want to break. Not yet.
“We’re not sure ourselves,” she replied, her voice trembling. “I was with a charge, couldn’t orb in right away when I heard him call. When I did…” her voice trailed off. “God, he watched her die. He vanquished the demon and watched her die.”
Victor frowned at her words, slightly puzzled. Call? Chris had called her? For healing, he realized…but she wasn’t the only whitelighter he knew.
“Leo couldn’t come either?”
Paige pressed her lips in a thin line. She looked uncomfortable.
“Leo was Up There with Wyatt, in a conference,” she said, but her voice had grown tight. “The Elders didn’t want him to leave.”
“But he heard him,” Victor asked, his voice taking a slowly dangerous tone. “He heard his son calling, right?” Paige breathed in sharply, shakily, and he knew. “He ignored him again, didn’t he.”
Paige closed her eyes, brought her hand over her mouth. Tears fell down her cheeks, and he wondered…why? Why was it Chris? Why did Leo not care more about his second son? Why did he never wonder why Chris was calling? He remembered the red cheek, had passed it off as an injury from his fight against the demon, but afterthought…It looked more like the aftermath of a good smacking. He clenched his teeth and was about to ask if Leo had dared to hit his son at such a time-
"Gramps! Aunt Paige!"
Wyatt's worried voice caught their attention and they hurried to join him. He was kneeling next to Chris, who was now awake and sitting on the couch. His hand was over his throat, his eyes fearful. Wyatt looked at them with a hint of panic.
"What's going on?" Victor asked, because Paige couldn't, and he didn’t want to think of her when there were bigger issues to deal with, and could this day could only grow worse and-
"He can't speak."
“What?”
“Chris,” Wyatt repeated. “He can’t speak.”
3 years later
"Chris!" Wyatt shouted, slamming his hand against the bathroom door. "Get the fuck out of the shower! You've been in there for hours!"
"Language, Wyatt." Victor said as he walked past his nineteen-year old grandson. “It’s far too early.”
Wyatt glared at him.
"He's worse than a girl," he protested and added, speaking slightly louder: "Just because he has longer hair doesn't mean he can-"
The door opened. Chris stepped out, fresh and clean. Wyatt sent him a dirty look before stepping inside and slamming the door. Victor stared at his second grandson with an exasperated look.
"What on earth are you doing in there?" he asked.
Chris smirked, lifted his hands and began to sign:
'Fun to tease Wyatt. He has lots of time left.'
Victor rolled his eyes. Of course Chris would find it amusing to annoy his brother so early in the morning and hog the bathroom on purpose.
"Little brat," Victor said affectionately. "Make sure you leave on time too."
Chris happily skipped away to his bedroom. His smile fell off as his second grandson disappeared from his sight.
A lot of things had changed, with Piper’s death; the main one being that the boys had moved under his roof. Neither Phoebe nor Paige could take them in, and the manor had too many memories to stay in so soon. Victor had categorically refused to let them go live Up There. Chris didn’t want to anyway, and Wyatt wouldn’t leave his brother behind. So they had converted his old office and the spare room into teenage boys’ bedrooms. It wasn’t ideal, space-wise, but it was the best alternative and so far, aside from Wyatt’s attempts to strangle his brother every other morning, they had survived the cohabitation.
Victor returned to the kitchen, picked up his plate and launched the coffee machine. He picked up his ASL cheat-card and checked the new words he had decided to learn this week.
In the past three years, Chris had yet to speak again. He was physically able; Wyatt had healed him thoroughly to make sure of it. The psychiatrist they had consulted had suggested his blockage to be psychological: the murder of his mother must have shocked him so deeply he couldn’t speak. Victor thought that while the doctor wasn’t wrong, he wasn’t quite right either. Chris had called for help that night, again and again, until his voice was raw. Victor assumed that since no-one had answered, he had given up talking at all. Or something along those lines. In the meantime, they all stuck up learning how to communicate differently. Thankfully, daily practice and motivation made it easier to pick up.
The toaster beeped and two slices of bread popped out, effectively distracting him. He stood up and was about to pick up his soon-to-be breakfast when someone orbed in. There were only two people in his acquaintances that would dare show up unannounced, and he bit back a groan when he recognized the visitor. The day had barely started, and he was already sensing trouble.
"Morning Leo," he greeted anyway.
Even though Elders weren't supposed to, Leo had drastically aged in the past two years. The shock of losing his wife still hadn't worn off.
"Victor," he said, sounding like he just came out of a high, his voice light and almost robotic. "Is Wyatt around?"
"Bathroom," Victor said and added: "Chris is in his room."
Leo's expression tightened slightly.
"I didn't come for Chris," he said bluntly, a lot less eerie. Victor snorted.
"Of course."
He picked up his cup and began drinking. Leo's expression darkened and he clenched his jaw.
"What are you implying, Victor?"
He put down his cup, rearranged it calmly on the table.
"Far from me to want to meddle with your relationship with your offspring, but I believe you tend to forget you actually have two boys. Not just Wyatt." He sighed and added: "You should really try to mend ties, before he definitively gives up on you."
"It would be easier if he actually talked to me," Leo pointed out bitterly.
"And it would be easier if you realize he might never get his voice back. He's your son, Leo, not some random stranger. If you don't want to learn ASL or don’t have time, and for the record, you are the only one in this family who didn't learn at least the basics, then write." He sighed again. "From a father to another, one of my biggest regrets in life was that I could never watch my girls grow. You are repeating my mistake by neglecting them."
"I don't neglect them, I am there," Leo protested.
"For Wyatt,” Victor pointed out. “Never for Chris. And Wyatt sees it too."
Leo opened his mouth to deny it, to tell him that no, he made himself available, even though he couldn't be there all the time. He snapped it shut. Chris entered the kitchen. He ignored his father, picked up his breakfast and started eating. After a few minutes of silence, he put down his spoon and signed 'Don't let me stop you'. Victor ran a hand over his face tiredly.
"You'll be ready on time?" Chris nodded. He pulled out his phone and started scrolling. Pure provocation; phones weren't allowed during mealtime. "Chris, you know the rules."
His grandson gave him the stinky eye but complied and put it back in his pocket. Victor turned his attention on Leo. The Elder was equally trying to ignore him, looking out the window. Victor suddenly wanted to bash heads against the wall. His included. Before he could speak, Wyatt entered the kitchen. His eyes landed on his father's before sliding over to Chris, and back to the Elder.
"Hi dad," he greeted warily. Leo shifted uncomfortably on his feet, glancing at Chris with insistence. Victor tightened his jaw. The Elder clearly wanted him out of the room. "So, what's up?"
Seeing that nobody was going to leave, he cleared his throat and said:
"The Elders and I wanted to have a session about the handling of your whitelighter powers."
Victor saw Chris' movements halt and his face get void of expression. Wyatt moved to the counter to pick up a fruit. He had this light frown, deceptively puzzled. Victor knew he was playing dumb. Whatever Leo hoped to coo him into doing, he was already fighting a losing battle.
"Why? Aunt Paige shows us stuff when we need them."
His voice remained light and normal to the untrained ear, but the slight tension in his shoulders and the use of 'us' and ‘we’ didn't escape Victor's ears. He had noticed the not-too-subtle putting-Chris-aside game Leo was playing, and was very unhappy about it.
"It's..." Leo started, looking for words. "Yours are a lot stronger and they need careful handling. Up There will be safer for experimentation."
Victor felt a rush of anger run through his body as he watched his former son-in-law. The silence was broken when Chris stood up and dropped his dish in the sink. He signed a 'see you tonight' and orbed away. The moment he left the room, Wyatt exploded:
"A lot stronger?" he bellowed. "Seriously? Why don't you just spit in his face? At least you'd be honest about not wanting him there!"
Leo clenched his teeth, narrowed his eyes.
"He can't talk!" he protested. "We were going to use spell casting! I didn't want him to feel left out because of-"
"Oh grow up dad!" Wyatt snapped. "You really think he's an idiot? He's mute, not deaf, and definitively not stupid. He knows you don't want him around."
"That's not-" he began and shut up. He glared at Victor. “Thank you so much for setting my son against me.”
“You leave Gramps out of this,” Wyatt growled before he could go on. “You set yourself up well enough on your own. I won’t show at your stupid session with the Elders. I’d rather spend my time with my brother. You can show yourself out. And next time you come around, knock at the goddamn door.”
He stood firmly on his feet, glared at Leo until the Elder gave up and orbed out of the apartment. Only then did Wyatt sit and sighed.
“I hate him, Gramps,” he growled. “Sometimes I really hate him.”
“He’s still your father,” Victor reminded him. “Your mother chose him. You have to remember that.”
“What I don’t get is why you take his side,” he added bitterly.
“I’m not taking anyone’s side. I just want my apartment to be in one piece whenever he stops by.” Wyatt snorted but looked slightly guilty. His magic reacted strongly to his emotions, and it wouldn’t be the first time, nor would it be the last, that Victor’s furniture paid the price of his anger. “I don’t like him either, but I know what it’s like to be a father whose kids hate him.”
Prue had resented him for a very long time. Piper and Phoebe had forgiven his absence, and he had tried to step up, was still trying to. Taking the boys in had been the obvious thing to do, and some kind of penance on his part. He didn’t understand Leo’s choices and behavior, but he still wished they would give each other a chance to make things right. Perhaps he was too much of an optimistic.
Wyatt sighed instead.
“Yeah, well, whatever. My friends and I wanted to hang out after class, so I’ll probably be home late.”
Victor made a little wave.
“You’re in college, Wyatt, you can live up a little. Just remember you’re not allowed to drink yet.”
His first grandson snorted a little:
“What? No ‘don’t do anything I wouldn’t’?”
“You are a responsible kid and I trust you. If you do something stupid, try not to get arrested.” His first grandson gave him a tight smile. After his mother’s death, he had grown too fast. Both he and Chris. They needed to learn to loosen up, and he was hoping college life would help Wyatt do that. And if Wyatt was more relaxed, Chris would definitively follow. “Just send your brother a message or something; I know he intended to borrow a few books from Magic School before going home.”
Wyatt grimaced.
“I’ll stop there then. The Headass might pay him a visit. Chris doesn’t need to be surrounded by even more idiots after dad.”
“You know Chris can handle himself just fine.”
The young man shrugged.
“I know. He’s still my baby brother, and no-one touches my baby brother except for me.”
He orbed out upon these words and Victor sighed deeply. Wyatt had grown fairly overprotective in the past three years. It was touching, but Victor felt that between the two of them, he was the most fragile one. With this Twice-Blessed business, he was magically strong, virtually untouchable, but his whole world turned around Chris. For all his complaining, if anything happened to his brother, Wyatt would snap. And Victor hoped that, for the future, that day would never come to be.
Chris loved the library of the Magic School. He loved the atmosphere, the quietness, the potential that could be found within these walls. The Book of Shadows held a lot of information about demons and spells and other creatures. It didn’t tell the full history, the reasons behind the whys, the origins and consequences of today’s world. Every time he came around, he picked up something new and learned more about this world he was forcefully set aside from.
“What are you doing here, Christopher?”
Chris glanced up from his book. Gideon, Headass extraordinaire, stared down at him. The Elder was part of the reasons why he didn’t follow Magic School classes anymore. He and Leo went ways back, and he too thought Chris was incapable of doing magic because he lost his voice. It was bull of course, since he still had active powers, could still brew potions, hear the teachers speaking and take notes. But vocal spell casting was a big part of magic practice, therefore, he should rather focus on living a mortal life or stick at doing potions instead of monopolizing the spell books and reading practical exercises he couldn’t use anyway.
Direct quote.
It didn’t stop him from returning and borrowing stuff. No-one else seemed upset about it.
He scribed down: ‘Reading’, and gave the Elder a pointed look. Gideon frowned in disapproval.
“We already had this discussion, Christopher. As long as you cannot speak, you shouldn’t come and use these. What if someone needs them?”
Chris stared at the title: ‘Magic versus Science: Alchemy and Other Mystics from Morals Point Of View’ and back at him. The book hadn’t been borrowed for the past decade. He doubted anyone would want to use it in the next few days. Gideon pressed his lips together unhappily. Whatever he was about to say would remain a mystery, as Wyatt chose this very moment to step in.
“Hey Chris, I thought I’d find you here.” Wyatt stared at Gideon. “Headmaster, sir. Is there a problem?”
The Elder stiffened a little, eyes narrowed in displeasure. Wyatt clearly didn’t give a fuck. They had found themselves in this kind of situation before, where Gideon was gently bullying Chris into giving up a book he’d been reading; and Wyatt solving the problem by borrowing it under his own name and giving it right back to his brother under the Elder’s nose.
“Of course not,” the Headmaster replied rigidly. For all his self-righteousness, he too was wary around Wyatt.
“Good.” He glanced next at Chris and signed: ‘I’m off with my friends. Wanna join us or stay here?’
‘Where are you going?’
‘Some karaoke bar. I didn’t know whether you’d rather go at Gramps or play the wallflower.’
Chris considered it.
‘I can be a great wallflower. Not in the mood for the umpteenth re-watch of Inspector what’s-his-name.’
Wyatt chuckled.
‘I’m sure no-one will mind. Gear up?’
Chris stood up and followed him out. He picked up the book. When Gideon made a disapproving sound, Wyatt asked:
“Do I need to borrow it under my own name again, sir?”
Impertinence, Gideon’s eyes seemed to scream, but since neither had done anything wrong, he couldn’t exactly stop them. Leo would definitively hear about it later.
“Of course not. Christopher has his own account.”
Fucking hypocrite, Chris thought thunderously. He held back the urge to stick out his tongue –childish and the Elder didn’t need more ammunition against him –and followed Wyatt out. His brother orbed them out and into a street alley.
“What an ass. You alright?”
‘I’ve dealt with him before, but thank you.’ Chris slipped the book in his backpack. ‘Are you alright?’ Wyatt pressed his lips together. He was not. Chris sighed ‘You will go and have fun with your friends. I’ll read listening to your terrible interpretation of Barbie Girl.’
His brother cracked a smile and Chris thought mission accomplished. They headed to the karaoke bar and joined an already busy table. Five people –two boys, three girls, were waiting there and turned around when they approached. Chris recognized most of them: Seth, the half-mortal half-manticore demon, Tristan, who came to one of Wyatt’s birthday party, Nora from Magic School…the two other girls were unfamiliar.
“Hey everyone!” Wyatt greeted cheerfully. “I brought my little brother; I hope you guys don’t mind.” Chris waved back. Seth and Nora –who already knew of his condition –signed ‘hello’ back. The rest said ‘hi’, looked a bit confused at his presence. “He’s just going to sit in a corner and read.”
“Not eager to sign?” the unfamiliar girl asked.
“He’s mute, Leigh,” Seth stepped in before asking: “What did you borrow this time? Another old theoretical and overcomplicated dusty manuscript you somehow pulled out of the library?” Chris rolled his eyes and slumped on a chair. He pulled out the book, showed the title anyway. Seth grimaced. “Ah well, didn’t peg you for a masochist. Enjoy it.”
He was one of the firsts to go sing with Wyatt. Chris booed him the whole time on principle before focusing on his reading.
He didn’t particularly feel like a masochist, although he certainly saw Seth’s point. Not everyone would be interested in the morality of the use of magic. He himself wasn’t that interested either, but it was the closest thing to the research he wanted to do on demons that he could found. Demons were, in his point of view, fascinating. Disgusting and cruel and evil, yes; but they had their very own intriguing society with rules and a hierarchy he had no idea existed, until he stumbled upon an article written by a student in the Magic School newsletter. One that lasted perhaps five hours before being retracted, but Chris still had the time to read it.
And when Chris was intrigued, he never let go.
“So, is it interesting?”
He looked up. The girl he had never met before, Leigh, was smiling at him. It was the same patronizing smile people gave him sometimes, when they learned or knew of his mutism. He allowed it for once, because she had big green eyes and lovely blonde hair and her breasts seemed too big for the bra she was wearing. Sue him, he was a hormonal teenager.
He shrugged in response and pointed towards the karaoke.
“If I sing?” she asked. He nodded. “No, it’s not really my thing.”
Why did she come then? he wondered. He pointed at her, then covered his mouth and raised a thumb, hoping it would be enough.
“My…voice?” she guessed. He nodded and lifted both thumbs. “My voice is good?” He smiled. She smiled back. “Aww, that’s sweet.” He grinned a little. “You have a lovely smile, anyone told you before?”
His cheeks heated a bit, because she sounded really sincere. He put his fingers over his lips and moved them forward, mouthing ‘thank you’.
“That means ‘thank you’?” she mimicked him. He nodded. “So awesome! I learned something tonight!”
Chris winced inside because her voice did not sound so nice when it went a higher pitch, but he had her attention and that was enough for now. By the time the evening ended, he had her number on his phone and a future date. Wyatt teased him the whole way home, and he didn’t care one bit.
Wyatt orbed back to the apartment in a fool mood.
First, his car had broken down in the middle of the street and it took him almost two hours to get it towed to the nearest garage –with a bill that made him want to choke someone. Next, he and Seth got into a stupid fight about a game where fool play may or may have not been involved. And finally, he had been summoned by his father on the way home. Yes summoned, for a meeting, Up There, because summoning was the only way Leo was getting in touch with him these days. And for what? His potential future part-time job as a Whitelighter. Except Wyatt had no intention of becoming a Whitelighter, because he had other plans.
“Hey, anyone home?” he called out. No-one answered, so he assumed his grandfather was out, but he smelt something delicious. Chris must be home then. “You here little brother?”
He heard the knock on a table and entered the kitchen. As expected, the stove was fully operational, and he could already tell they would be dining like kings tonight. Chris was wearing an old overused apron, bent over the table, taking notes. Wyatt crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, waiting for him to be done. It wasn’t a good idea to interrupt his brother when he was this focused. Especially since something tasty might come out of his brilliant mind.
A few minutes later, Chris looked up, gave him a smile and stretched. His back cracked a bit.
“Long day too?” Wyatt asked, spotting the tired lines on his face.
‘Teachers are demons in disguise,’ he signed. He was studying economics and management with the intention of taking over P3 someday. The proxy did a good job for now, but he was getting old and the nightclub was family business after all. ‘You just saw dad.’
“I got something on my face again?”
‘You always look drained whenever you come back from a meeting with him.’
Wyatt sighed.
“Yeah well, he spurted a whole bunch of stuff about whitelighter responsibilities again. As I don’t have enough going on with the demon hunts and the occasional requests from the magical community! And let’s not mention my choice of career. Professional firefighter isn’t something to be ashamed of.”
‘I think mom dated a firefighter after their divorce. Remember Greg?’
Wyatt paused, let the information sink in.
“That gives a different meaning to our conversation,” he admitted. “But still! The others didn’t seem to care. I mean, even Aunt Paige seemed enthusiastic, and she’s a fulltime whitelighter.”
‘Ignore him. He believes he still has a say in your life. You’re past twenty now. You make your own choices.’
Wyatt hummed and nodded. Chris glanced at his list and seemed lost in thoughts again. His first choice of career had been received with mixed reactions –he had wanted to become a chef, and while the aunts had been encouraging, they had asked quite a few times if he was trying to live up to the memory of his mother. They hadn’t gotten a straight answer out of him, but Wyatt thought not. Chris had always enjoyed cooking. He was often their mother’s assistant growing up and the best potion-maker of the family. Still was, too. In the end, he had changed paths because it seemed more trouble than it was worth. Cooking was still a beloved hobby when he was stressed out, for Wyatt’s secret relief.
“I should,” he agreed out loud. “By the way, I heard you and Leigh broke up?”
Chris looked up and grimaced.
‘Yes,’ he signed and left it at that. Okaaaay, Wyatt thought.
“And the reason is…?”
‘Don’t want to talk about it.’
Bad then. Chris wasn’t easily upset and he liked Leigh, or so Wyatt thought. Then again, there were parts of Chris’ life that Chris kept to himself. His love life included. Perhaps that was the reason why he was so set on cooking tonight. Clear his mind and all.
“You need any help?”
‘I’m almost done, thanks.’ He looked up. ‘You okay? Aside from the dad business?’
Wyatt wanted to say that yes, he was alright, that everything else in his life but his father was alright. He pulled a chair from the kitchen table, slouched down and sighed.
“I wish we were both legal-aged so we’d leave and get shitfaced sometimes,” he admitted and changed the subject. “I’m thinking of moving back in the manor if I manage to get hired in town. It would be closer for me. You could change my room back into an office to properly work, or move in with me.”
Chris grimaced.
‘I can’t leave Grandpa on his own. He’s getting old, and he doesn’t want to go to a retirement house.’
“Can’t blame him,” Wyatt muttered. “Would you be alright? I don’t want to leave you alone to deal with any issues that may or may not happen.”
‘Grandpa likes me best, I’ll be fine,’ he teased. ‘Besides, I’m more patient than you. I’ll text you or the aunts if I need any help.’ He glanced at the stove and cut the gas. ‘Speaking of Aunts, I have to stop by Aunt Phoebe’s workplace. She wanted a few vanquishing potions and I promised her homemade diner, she will be working late.’
“That’s nice of you,” Wyatt said lightly, but couldn’t help but add: “You know, you don’t need to be the family sole potion-maker. In spite of what Dad and the Headass say, you have more than one talent, magic-wise. Your spells are better than mine most of the time.”
‘I just can’t cast them, or warn you in case of danger when we’re on a hunt,’ he signed with the right amount of irony on his face, and Wyatt hated it. It was true that the lack of verbal exchange was a severe handicap when they were in the Underworld, and it made Chris very self-conscious. He already had an inferiority complex due to the difference in power, he didn’t need more. The incessant requests for potions was, in Wyatt's opinion, just the aunts well-meant but misguided way to make him feel useful. ‘For food, I just made extra. Tonight is broccoli, rice and shredded chicken.’
Wyatt momentarily forgot their conversation and peeked up.
“Curry sauce?”
‘You know it.’
“I love you,” he cooed and noted that, in spite of Chris rolling his eyes, he looked pleased.
He settled in his chair, leaned back and watched as his brother finished the preparations. Not for the first time, Wyatt wondered why Chris had turned mute. He knew of his grandfather’s theory. Chris calling for naught –something that he would never forgive himself for –had an incidence on his sudden mutism. Wyatt couldn’t help but wonder if there were more. His father refused to talk about that night, neither did Aunt Paige and Chris claimed he didn’t remember everything. He had come to assume something else had happened. Chris had, after all, orbed away before he had orbed himself in. And he remembered his father looking pale and his aunt looking ashamed.
Something must have definitively happened, he thought. He just wished he knew what. Maybe if they talked about it, Chris would be able to speak again.