A/N: In case this isn't clear by now, this is a reborn fanfic. I suppose, at this point, those kind of fics are long gone, huh? They used to be trendy yeaars ago, but.. ah well. I always had the urge to give it a try, so here it is. Let's see what goes!
The reborn pokemon idea belongs to Srgeman. If you haven't yet checked his magnificent A little night music, by all means, give it a try. It won't dissapoint!
The present felt blurry. That didn't make sense. Neither did all the sticky, strangely comforting warmth surrounding him. Something was missing, didn't know what. Words crossed themselves over. Something unsettling. Too relaxed to remember, he only wanted to drift away...
A weird noise forced him to stay conscious, no idea where it came from. Darkness was everything he saw, and it seemed like everything he'd ever known, but that was wrong, too... Peace, that's what he felt.
He couldn't see why. Something was missing, something he should remember.
The noise kept getting louder, but it didn't bother him. A...os... (He knew it should make sense, it didn't, it didn't.)
What nagged him wasn't from the outside. He tried to focus on... a voice, he dully remembered, feeling himself fitting something far too big for his mouth into it, metallic.
But his mouth was empty, nothing but darkness, and the voice, the voice.. the words were too far, but they wouldn't stop..
Al...o... ere... ! His head was so fuzzy, it suddenly hit him that he had limbs, so he tried moving one, but it was so heavy, so tired.. brushing against a hard surface...
The voice was a trusting caress, it wasn't near but it wanted him somewhere, and it felt like it mattered, like the thing he should remember... that. . . BAM.
His eyes darted around, dark, dark. The memory, that memory, so scary, ripping him away..! And there was nothing to remember but the depth ripping at him, destroying his insides all over again..!
...Again?
Almos... jus... .. bit mo... The line between the present and past were so blurred, he couldn't know where he was. There was the voice, and then there were scars on his wrists, failed attempts, leaked tears, encouragement and warmth, cold and loneliness, all at once falling down.
He didn't want to be there anymore, wherever he was. He couldn't. So he extended his limbs and pushed, pushed hard. (His hands trembled, finger gripping the trigger, memory fading back to a forgotten nothing.) It felt as if he were trying to break the world itself, it was such a big effort... but the voice, the blood pumping through him, he had to. Needed to figure things out.
When he could almost feel himself giving up, a crack spread under him. A crack! The voice encouraged on, and that brought renewed strenght. He pushed, and it was as if he weren't alone, as if the voice pushed along with him. Finally, light poured down on him, and everything was turning around, and he felt his lungs take in the most painful breathe ever, shivering over, confused, blinded... Alive.
Again.