Characters: Wyatt & Bianca, their kids
Disclaimer: Belongs to Spelling Entertainment and all other associated people. I take full right to Bianca and her kids and um the future life that won't be *sobs*
Summary: A little outing to the museum with his father finds Matthew and Wyatt in a load of trouble with the police.
Word Count: 2,155
“Mommy, Patrick’s eating something he’s not supposed to!” Chrystal shouted.
Bianca dropped the sheet from her hands, shimmering down into the kitchen where her young daughter was casting a critical eye over her younger brother. Patrick sat on the floor, his hands firmly clasped around a scotch brite pad, the corner of which was inside his mouth.
“Patrick, no!” Bianca scolded, tearing it from his grasp. The young child held his hands out towards it then started to tear up when he realized Bianca was not going to give it back to him. “How’d he get this?”
“He orbed it out,” Chrystal explained.
Bianca looked to the cupboard door. It was still closed tightly, fastened with baby locks that wouldn’t allow any child into the cupboard. They didn’t need to worry so much about Matthew when he was little, he found his own way to entertain himself, but when the ever-curious Chrystal was born she found her way into almost everything. Without the ability to orb, it was a simple solution for her parents to implement to stop her getting into places, but Patrick’s innate need to do whatever he wanted and having the powers to surpass such simple things provided a wealth of trouble.
“Don’t do that,” she reprimanded.
Patrick opened his mouth and wailed, his face flushing red as tears streamed down his face. Bianca pursed her lips. She knew it wasn’t wrong to scold him, but he made her feel incredibly guilty for upsetting him.
Hearing orbs in the hallway, she turned away from her children and made her way out towards the sound. She saw Wyatt running a hand through his hair looking rather flustered, but she ignored his worry and lifted the pad into the air to address her own concerns.
“We need to do something about this. Patrick’s eating scotch brite’s. He’ll be onto the brillo pads next, and that’s going to hurt,” she said.
“Everything’s locked up,” Wyatt said distractedly.
“Did you forget you gave your son a few of your genes? You know, like, telekinetic orbing so he can get past those locks?”
“Yeah, he’s not the only one.”
“Wyatt?” she queried. She looked around and noticed someone was missing. “Where’s Matthew?”
“I lost him,” Wyatt confessed.
“You lost him?” she repeated with surprise. “You were chaperoning him, how can you lose him? Didn’t you take him to the museum?”
“Yeah, and then I got called away,” Wyatt explained.
“So you just left him on his own?” Bianca criticized. “God, Wyatt, how can you be so irresponsible? Anything could have happened.”
“I only thought it would be for a minute,” he argued. “It’s not my fault my charges have crises at the most inconvenient of times.”
“You should really give that up,” Bianca said heatedly.
“You want me to go around letting thousands of people die so I can look after your children?”
“Oh they’re my children now? I seem to remember I wasn’t alone when I got pregnant.”
“Mommy?” Chrystal called.
Bianca stopped, seething as she cast her gaze away from Wyatt. “What, baby?”
“Someone’s at the door,” she answered.
Wyatt went to the front door, opening it to find two police officers from the San Francisco Police Department standing on the other side.
“Mr. Halliwell, may we come in?” the officer requested.
Wyatt stood back, allowing them to enter. Bianca retrieved Patrick, hoisting him into her arms and carrying him into the living room, dropping him down into the playpen as everyone seated themselves on the various chairs around her.
“Are you here about my son?” Wyatt asked cautiously. Bianca sat quickly, preparing herself for bad news.
“Your son? What does he look like?” the first officer inquired.
“He’s about so high, with curly brown hair and brown eyes…” Wyatt described.
“Must be the kid at the station,” the second officer said to the first.
“You have my son? Can we get him?” Bianca asked. “Why didn’t you bring him here?”
“We didn’t come here about him, we came here because we found Mr. Halliwell’s print on one of the samurai swords in the museum which we believe was used in a murder case. The fact that your son may have witnessed this is, well, somewhat of a coincidence depending on his involvement.”
Bianca glared at Wyatt before glimpsing towards the officers on the couch. “Sorry, can I talk to my husband in private for a minute?”
Grabbing his arm she hauled him back out into the hallway, folding her arms as she fixed him with an angry stare.
“What did you do? Why is your print on that sword?” she interrogated.
“It… Matthew orbed it out of its case,” Wyatt explained. Bianca raised her eyebrows suspiciously, not believing what he was saying. Her hard gaze prompted him to reveal more. Awkwardly he rubbed the back of his neck. “And I kind of played with it. I wanted to show off a little.”
“Oh, Wyatt!” Bianca sighed, shaking her head. “You’re worse than the children. They’re going to arrest you, and who knows when we’re going to see Matthew.”
“Excuse us,” the second officer said, popping his head through the entranceway. “But we really should be taking Mr. Halliwell down to the station to make a statement.”
“I won’t be long,” Wyatt said to Bianca, trying to sound positive.
“You’re not going by yourself,” Bianca insisted. Leaning towards her, Wyatt kissed her softly. “I’ll take the kids to your mom’s and I’ll meet you there.”
Matthew moved the pencil across the paper with studious finesse. He liked making pictures. The police officer who was looking after him suggested he do so. He told him that he’d let him have that candy bar in the machine if he drew a picture of what he’d seen. Matthew scribbled a little more furiously, making a darker shade for the shadow. Hearing voices enter the room he stopped and looked up to see two more policemen walk in with Wyatt.
“Daddy!” he shouted gleefully.
Dropping the pencil, he slid off the chair and raced over to his father, throwing his arms around his legs. Wyatt placed a hand against his head.
“Matthew, where’d you run off to?” he questioned.
“Nowhere. The policemen took me,” he said, glancing up to his father. “I promise.”
Wyatt knew his son often would disappear on his own and find himself in the worst sort of trouble, but with those innocent doe brown eyes looking up at him, so much like Bianca’s, he knew he was telling the truth.
“Mr. Halliwell,” one of the officers prompted from the adjoining doorway.
“I’ll be back in a minute,” Wyatt said to Matthew.
“That’s what you said before,” Matthew pouted.
“I will. I promise. I just need to talk to the policemen first. Mommy will be here soon.”
“Okay,” he replied, none too happily.
Bianca arrived shortly, but found she was unable to see anyone. Everywhere she went she was blocked by different members of the force.
“I need to see my son. Where is he?” she asked heatedly as yet another person tried to stop her.
“If you’ll just calm down, miss, I’m sure—”
“I will not calm down. You took my son, then my husband, and not one single person in this damned place will let me see either of them!”
“They have to be questioned first, unless you’d like to add something to this case.”
“Yeah, they didn’t do it,” Bianca said indignantly. “You have no right to hold my little boy.”
Giving in, the officer guided her towards the room where Matthew was being questioned. She looked through the window, seeing him sitting at a table, his little feet tapping against the legs of the chair as he swung them.
“You didn’t finish your picture,” the questioner said to him. He shrugged. “I thought you wanted to help us.”
Still Matthew remained silent. There was a tap on the door as the officer who’d guided Bianca their way informed the questioner of her presence. With a nod, the woman returned to the table.
“Matthew, your mother’s here. She’s standing on the opposite side of that mirror right now watching you. She’s going to be very upset that you won’t speak to me.”
Matthew glanced at the mirror, seeing his own reflection, then looked back to the lady across the table. “That’s a lie.”
“Why do you say that?” she asked.
“Because mommy and daddy told me not to talk to the police,” Matthew explained.
The officer glanced at Bianca. Licking her lips, she peered out of the corner of her eye at him. It was not out of guilt that they’d told Matthew such a thing, but protection. He was their first child, a potent prize for the beings of the Underworld and all manner of evil above. Sometimes the police weren’t really who they seemed to be.
“Is that right?” the questioner said, glancing towards the mirror. “And why don’t they want you talking to us? Is it because of what you saw? Did they do something?”
“No,” Matthew said, swinging his legs again.
“Stop it, please,” Bianca requested from the officer. “You’re going to confuse him.”
“Where was your father, Matthew?” the questioner probed.
“He went away,” Matthew replied.
“Because he hurt someone?”
“He was going to help people, cause that’s what he does,” Matthew said slowly.
The questioner raised her eyebrows, looking to the mirror again. “What was he doing with the sword?”
Matthew smiled and giggled. “Being silly.”
The woman pushed her chair back, motioning at the window and walking towards the door. The officer walked around to join her.
“I don’t think they were part of this. If anything, it sounds like his father was trying to help someone. Maybe the victim,” the woman said.
The other officer glanced back to Bianca. “Do you want to take your son? Just stay in the building, we’re still questioning your husband.”
Bianca nodded, smiling when Matthew came rushing out to her. Kneeling down she hugged him.
“Are you hungry?” she asked.
Bianca looked up to the two officers, scratching her eyebrow. “We’ll be down in the cafe.”
Taking Matthew’s hand, she made her way down the hallway, the little boy skipping along joyously, oblivious to what was going on around him. Seating him at one of the tables, Bianca pulled a chair up next to him and lifted the menu into her hands.
“What do you want?” she asked.
“Fries,” he answered.
Nodding, Bianca cast a quick glimpse down the available meals, searching for something for herself as the waitress stopped by the table.
“What can I get you?” she asked, poising a pen over the pad of paper in her hands.
“Um, can I just get the Caesar salad? And fries for him.”
“Water?” Bianca requested.
“Milkshake,” Matthew spoke up. Scribbling the notes down, the waitress put the pen away and began to walk away. Matthew held his hand out towards her as she left. “Chocolate!”
Smiling, he turned back to his mother. She lowered her head, trying to hide her own as her lips curled up.
“Is daddy gonna eat too?” he asked.
“When he gets out,” Bianca answered.
The meals were quickly brought to the table. Bianca played with her salad, shifting the vegetables around with a fork before she looked thoughtfully over to Matthew. He shoved a french fry into his mouth, scrunching it up against his cheek on entry. She watched him curiously.
“So what happened exactly? Did you see something bad?” she inquired.
“No. Me and Daddy hid because he had to orb away, and I went to look at the dinosaurs and there were big, scary-looking guys who came in and I went and hid in the big cave, and when they went away I came out and nobody was around but there was this woman bleeding on the dirt where the cavemen were and I went to find daddy to help and that’s when the policeman came after me and I tried to hide again but he shone his torch at me and showed me his badge and told me I had to go with him before I got into anymore trouble.”
Bianca looked at him worriedly. “Were they real people, honey?”
Matthew shrugged and picked up his glass, gulping down a mouthful of chocolate milk. “I didn’t want daddy to be mad.”
Reaching over to him, she placed a hand against the back of his head and kissed his temple. He picked up another fry, swirling it around in the side section of sauce, and popped it into his mouth. Bianca looked up to the ceiling, hoping that things were okay with Wyatt upstairs. If they hadn’t been part of it, surely they would let him go soon. But if they were demons who didn’t leave any kind of trail, then they’d be in serious trouble.