Finally, this is up. This was one of those kinda things that I had written fully in my head and managed to write in about three days, but I've spent nearly two weeks refining it. This is fairly adult for Pokemon, but I was surprised by some of the stuff they put into Mewtwo's story. He was a tragic character with a pretty dark history, so I wrote this as a tribute to him, and in more the tone of the first movie and his Origin than the anime. I hope you enjoy this. You will live forever Mewtwo, in the hearts of all your fans.

Forget Me Not

"Can you believe this shit?" Jack asked, cocking his head towards the television that rested on the pedestal behind the bar. The news was on, and two expert types were discussing the morality of the rash of vigilante acts that had recently gripped the city. The usual points were made, society was held together by laws and boundaries, but what damage was done if the only ones hurt were criminals? And they were criminals, that much was sure.

There were two common themes to the vigilante acts. The violence was horrific. Bones broken, limbs snapped, and lots and lots of blood. Always unique methods of execution. Bodies burned, minced to pieces, skinned and strung up like something out of a science fiction movie or a slasher film. Never something as clean and orderly as a gunshot to the head or stabbing. The vigilante seemed intent on topping his vicious crimes each and every night. Each and every night, and the police had no leads what so ever. Sally actually chuckled lowly to herself. The vigilante would run out of people to kill long before he was ever caught.

Of course, this wasn't that strange. Some idiot watched Death Wish and got the key to his father's gun safe. It wasn't that uncommon. What was strange was that the would be victims had no idea who saved them. There was a hole in their memory, the face of their savior was blurred like an undeveloped photograph. Doctors called it post traumatic stress disorder or suppression of painful memories, or any range of things. Everyone had a theory.

"Whole things probably a ruse."

"Kinda hard to argue with a dead body," Sally explained. "There is someone out there. I mean, you here about the last incident. Guy shoots up a corner store, kills the owner and the owner's pet vulpix. He takes a step outside and gets crushed beneath a dumpster. Those things weigh two tons. Now explain to me how someone managed to hoist one of those up and throw them onto a guy."

Jack took a sip of his club soda. He never drank, strangely enough, but was a constant fixture at the bar. "They're saying it's a pokemon you know. Can you believe that? Got grainy photos and everything. I'll tell you one thing, like no pokemon I've ever seen, and I've seen em all. Except maybe a lucario, but bodies a bit different. Ah, seems like every few years another hundred batch of pokemon are being discovered." Another slurp, and he lifted a finger, gesturing to the waitress to bring him another, before saying, "Mayor has opened a bounty for any information leading to the arrest of the vigilante. Like that'll happen."

Sally looked to the television set, and the grainy photo that showed the silhouette of what could have been a pokemon, or a man, or a mirage, a trick of the moon's light or a clever usage of photoshop. Of course, paparazzi were not above doctoring photographs in order to sell them. "The new bigfoot," she muttered. "Tabloids must be making a killing."

Jack eased himself back in his chair, tracing the rim of her wine glass with a finger and making that loud humming noise. "How you been?" he asked.

"Fine, just fine."

"You know, if you ever need to talk to someone…"

"I know Jack," she said, almost snapping.

"Its just that, tomorrow."

"I know Jack. But really, I'm over it."

Jack chuckled slightly. "You never get over it."

"Then I've adjusted to it. I've," she paused. "I'm used to it." She paused, eyes darting angrily around the bar. "Its been years now, I have a right to be over it, don't I? Its not like I'm a bad person."

"Of course."

"I can't always live in the past. Then I would become my ex. I have every right to move on."

"You're absolutely right."

"I know," she snapped.

"Do you want to sleep over tonight? I can make you a nice breakfast and a nice lunch and a nice dinner and you can just stay in bed in a drunken stupor. We can crack open the nice Brandy I've been saving."

"I'm fine," Sally said, and smiled and placed a hand on Jack's thin shoulder. He was extremely thin, and tall, with a wide grin that almost spread ear to ear. "I'll just go home and get drunk. Don't worry if you don't hear from me for a while."

"I'll stop by after tomorrow, alright?"

"Sure," Sally said. She reached into the breast pocket of her jacket and pulled out her wallet, taking out her share of the tab and placing it on the table, but Jack waved a hand. "I got it," he said. She didn't have the strength to argue, so she placed the money back in the wallet and returned it to its place in her pocket.

"Good bye Sally," he said. She nodded recognition, and walked out.

The night wasn't cold, but just an uncomfortable coolness that prompted Sally to pull her jacket closed and tie her belt tightly around her waist. Such a cold night. Such a lonely night. The wind blew through her hair, chilling her scalp and face, and she wished she had a scarf or one of those tight knit wool cap things. Such a cold night. She wasn't much focusing on the ground she stepped on or the alleyway she passed, so she didn't notice the burly man, dressed nicely in a tie and collared shirt, until he was upon her. One gloved hand found her mouth and kept the instinctual scream muffled as he forcefully pulled her deep into the enveloping shadows.

A thousand thoughts played through her mind as the grip tightened and threatened to snap her jaw in two. She couldn't breathe. He was smothering her, closing off her mouth and nose, and it only became tighter. She struggled against the man, elbowing and stomping and clawing. She thought it was in vain until her jab found a soft spot under his right rib and he yelped, freeing her for a precious few seconds, allowing her to take a deep breath. Then he took her again and threw her against the wall.

Her skull cracked against the brick and she felt moisture in her scalp. Groggily she put her hand to her head and brushed her fingers through sticky hair. A cool wind blew and made her shiver.

"Can't you do anything right?" asked a voice somewhere above her. It couldn't have been the man, it was too light, too soft. It would have had to belong to a woman.

"Bitch hit me," the man muttered, kicking Sally in the ribs. She craned her neck slightly, looking over her shoulder, but the light of the street flooded the alley way and made getting a good look at her attackers impossible. What good would it do anyway? What could she do? She had felt this sense of powerlessness before, and it wasn't any easier. Not just how physically weak she was, she knew that all too well, but how little she knew. Would she see the sun tomorrow? Would she see Jack again?

"Where is the target," the woman muttered. Glinting steel caught the reflection of the moon's light and somehow Sally noticed the profile of a gun. She couldn't bare the thought of moving, still believing that somehow this would end differently than how she feared.

"Where is the damn vigilante?" the woman demanded. "We've done everything right, got our damsel in distress, where's the white homicidal knight?"

"Maybe he doesn't know he's supposed to be here," the man offered. "Think about it, it's a big city. Lots of crime. Maybe we should try another part of the city. Someplace a little more minimum wage."

They were just ignoring her, arguing amongst themselves. Perhaps she could slip away. Perhaps she could escape.

"Don't let her get away," the woman said. The man placed a boot on Sally's back, crushing her into the ground. "Just finish her off and we can be on our way. Try the pickings somewhere else."

"Oh come on, the bitch hasn't seen anything. She doesn't even know who we are."

"You know the rules. No witnesses. Put her down."

"But…"

"Do it."

The man bent, leaning low. His warm breath brushed on the back of her neck as he whispered, "Sorry bout this luv. Business is business. Nothing personal, just needed a worm to put on the hook. The fish aren't biting though."

"No," Sally screamed, as she began to struggle and squirm. A forceful kick to her side and she ceased her movements, rolling painfully on her back and watching as the man drew a pistol from under his shirt. "No, please."

"Come on luv, just hurts for a moment, then, well, nothing."

Placing a boot on her throat, the man leaned his weight down to keep her from squirming away and nonchalantly pulled the hammer of his pistol back with his thumb. "No," she managed to plead. Slowly, his finger found the trigger and gradually applied pressure. Without so much as a whimper, he pushed the pistol under his chin and squeezed, collapsing after a thunderous gunshot echoed through the alleyway.

The woman seemed fazed by her partner's execution, but only for a moment. Immediately she pulled a radio out of her pocket, gripped her pistol tight and skimmed the rooftops. "He's here. The fucker is here. Where the fuck are you?" she managed to say, before some invisible force took hold of her and lifted her off the ground. It was a horrifying sight. Crucified, the woman arms stretched out at her sides, a low, painful whine escaping her lips. A tearing noise and sickening retch began to fill the alleyway. It filled Sally's ears and yet she couldn't look away. Screaming, the woman crashed into the wall, bones breaking, crumpled body wetly sliding to the ground.

"Oh my god," Sally whimpered. "Oh my god."

She backed away, crawling along the ground, until the back of her head collided with something warm. Yelping in fear she turned and looked up to face what she assumed was a pokemon, but the likes of which she had never seen. But because there were always pokemon being discovered, new evolutions or ancient eggs, this didn't scare her. Rather, what scared her was the pokemon's gaze. Even the corpses faded from her memory as she made eye contact. Lifeless, dead, soulless purple eyes framed by albino fur. Sharp, menacing features. She was more terrified of this creature than the man and woman, now strewn about and lifeless.

"Amber?" the pokemon asked. It had a strained voice, low and painful and rich as oiled leather. Soothing yet terrifying all at once. The pokemon lifted a hand, and something took hold of Sally, gently lifting her off the ground and bringing her closer to the pokemon's gaze. One spherical finger stroked her skin, moving the hair out of her face. Something about the touch didn't scare her like it should have. She was scared of course, but he was so gentle in the embrace.

"No," he hissed suddenly, and the grip around her tightened with a sudden squeeze. "You're not Amber." His mouth didn't move this time. His voice somehow boomed in her head between her ears. "You're not Amber."

"Amber?" Sally wheezed.

The gunshot echoed through the alleyway, and the pokemon, with his menacing gaze, looked down at the crimson that was slowly soaking the pale fur of his right breast. Sally looked back at the woman, somehow holding up her pistol, the barrel smoking. A moment later, her head popped like an over ripe grape.

"Damn it," the pokemon screamed, smashing a balled fist into the ground. The booming voice bounced in her mind and crushed her to her knees. "Damn. They'll catch me. No."

Sally fell to the ground, and slowly managed to gather herself to her feet, taking a slow glance around to be sure that no one was left. She looked back at the pokemon, weakly trying to crawl away, holding his wounded chest. He was such a strange thing, like nothing she'd ever seen before. Such an odd shape, such an odd form, such odd eyes. Her daughter loved pokemon, and showed her countless pictures of a variety of creatures. And yet she had never seen anything like what lay before her, weak, dying, and she had never felt something so powerful as when the air tightened and he had her.

The pokemon had saved her, she realized as she looked back at the crumpled bodies of her assailants. The vigilante, he had saved her.

"Leave," it cried. He had barely moved, and he was losing a great deal of blood judging by the streaks of crimson that pooled beneath him. "Don't leave. Please, Amber, don't leave."

He collapsed then, lay slumped. Sally approached, kneeling and placing two fingers on his neck. She didn't know for sure if he even had a pulse, but she felt something beating. "What are you?" she asked. "Who are you?"

Sirens in the distance. Police attracted by the gunshots. Here to investigate. Here to arrest the vigilante. The pokemon would be put down. He would be called rabid and executed, no trial or anything. He would be killed without a second thought and the public would forget about him after an idiot celebrity did something stupid. Probably that dumb heiress. Or the pop star without any underwear.

Sally took hold of the pokemon by the arms and tried to drag him, but he was just too heavy to even make him budge. Then she thought of the familiar lump in her pocket. A pokeball, she was going to give it to her daughter on her birthday, it felt like a lifetime ago. She had told her husband, she had told everyone, she had gotten over her daughter's death, and yet she could never manage to discard this one keepsake, this one remembrance.

She took it out of her pocket and the pokeball expanded to the size of a baseball in her small hand. She had no clue if it would even work properly after all these years, but she felt she owed something to this pokemon. She wanted to fulfill his wish, help it escape. Maybe she felt she owed something to the pokemon, or maybe she just couldn't bare the thought of seeing a news report about how he had been put down like an animal. What ever the reason she tapped him with the pokeball, and the pokeball opened. The pokemon's skin glowed as he was sucked inside the confines of the pokeball. The ball bounced onto the ground, shaking twice before laying still.

The sirens were closer now. Sally snatched up the pokeball and slipped it into her coat pocket, before rushing out of the alleyway and onto the street. She resisted the urge to run as the police car passed her, instead just casually pacing herself along. It was excruciating to walk along as if nothing had happened, smile at passer bys and friendly faces. At last she reached her apartment. She bolted the door, locked the windows and drew the blinds. Something told her that was right. Only then did she take the pokeball out and release her captive.

She wasn't sure what to do. She had taken a first aid course years ago, but it hardly seemed applicable now. Apply pressure to stop the bleeding that was soaking into her floor. Try to suture the wound shut. Melt the skin to close the wound. Or call someone? Jack worked as a pokemon breeder, he would know what to do.

The pokemon woke with a sudden gasp, breathing heavily, panting, until his eyes fixed on Sally. "Amber?" he whispered.

"I'm not Amber," Sally said, taking an outstretched hand and holding it gently. "I have to do something about that wound."

The pokemon applied pressure to his breast. After several agonizing seconds of silence, the pokemon lifted his hand to reveal the wound had closed. "What are you?" she asked.

"Who are you?"

The pokemon examined her, as if to confirm this wasn't Amber, before saying, in his voiceless way, "Mewtwo."

"Mewtwo? You're a pokemon?" Such a ridiculous question, but one she asked none the less.

"Yes. Who are you?"

"Sarah Crosby. Um, everyone calls me Sally. I have a friend, a breeder. I can call him and he can see if you're okay."

"No."

"Then, I can take you to the pokemon center."

"No. No centers, no breeders. I shouldn't be here. I thank you for your hospitality, but I have to leave now."

"You can't leave. You've lost a lot of blood. Lord knows how you've managed to survive."

"I can't stay. You don't understand, human." Mewtwo tried to stand, but crumpled painfully, and it was only Sally moving under his arm and taking some of the weight that allowed him to continue standing. She helped him struggle along to the bed, where he practically collapsed.

"Why can't you?"

"Its not important. I have to leave. Staying here is too dangerous."

"If you go out, you will die. Please, you can stay here, its no trouble at all. At least for the night." She occupied several seconds pulling a chair closer to the bed and sitting down. "You saved me?" She was sure of the answer, but wanted to hear the pokemon say it. He gave a slight shrug.

"Is that why you are helping me? To repay a debt?"

"Why wouldn't I help you? You're hurt. Its just common decency."

Mewtwo's eyes wandered towards a side table, focusing on a photograph, framed in a stainless steel border. "Amber?"

Sally followed Mewtwo's gaze to the picture. Smiling, she stood up and walked to the table, taking special care as she plucked the picture up and stroked it. "My daughter, and my ex-husband. She was killed in a hit and run, god, it was years ago. My husband, he just couldn't deal with it. He tried to clone her, if you can believe that." She gave a wordless shrug. "I just couldn't deal with him, clinging hopefully to some shiny light in a jar. I just couldn't live like that."

"Amber," Mewtwo whispered. "She was wonderful."

"Yes, she was. So full of life. She loved everyone. Everything. Every day she would come home from school with a stray pikachu in tow or a rattata in her arms and ask if she could keep it."

"I knew her," Mewtwo said, extending a hand and taking the photograph away. "I knew them both. From a very long time ago."

For the first time, in a long time, tears wetted Mewtwo's eyes. He brushed them away, furious at the show of weakness, and worked to withhold any more emotions from being released. "I can remember her, from so long ago. I had forgotten, but I remembered. She loved me."

"She was like that," Sally smiled, her own eyes swelling. "I swear there wasn't an ounce of hatred in her. She just loved everything, everyone, everyday she lived. Every day was special with her." Sally sighed again. "Tomorrow is her birthday. She would be thirteen." She laughed, despite the tears that were slowly trickling down her cheeks. "It doesn't get easier with time. They say it does but it doesn't. Because every single year I think about the child she could have been. The adult. She doesn't get to learn. She doesn't get to love or live.

"And do you know what the worst thing is, besides the fact that I'm sitting here talking to a homicidal pokemon?" She allowed herself to laugh. "Its that I'm starting to forget her. That's the worst. I'm forgetting her. Day by day, I lose a bit of her. You would think I would want to forget, let the memory die, but I don't want to lose her again."

Mewtwo extended a hand to Sally. Only briefly did she back away, but soon enough she moved forward and allowed the warm fur to brush her forehead. "It's my first memory," he explained. "I was alone, and scared, and confused. But I heard a voice. So filled with love, so filled with life. She told me not to be afraid. She told me we could be friends. She told me she loved me and we spent hours together. I used to try to erase it but it always comes back. I'll put it someplace deep. You won't know where it is, but it will be there, always, giving you strength when you need."

She was crying now, make up smeared, eyes red. She could feel her daughter, hear her voice in her mind. It was impossible, but it was there. She could feel her. "Thank you. I'll never forget you," she said.

Mewtwo smiled. There was something disturbing in the act, something strange in how the corners of his mouth upturned and its eyes glowed. For the first time, he used his voice, old and smooth.

"Yes you will."