A/N: Inspired by the song "Once Upon A December" from the Disney movie Anastasia
Once Upon A December
Pure, undefiled snow drifted down from the sooty black heavens with serene slowness, settling on the ragged brances of an ashen hued tree, the leafy covering it usually donned throughout the year long since cast away as naked branches thrust with imploring fingertips to Mother Nature, begging her for her comfort and for the return of the sun.
Winter is a harsh and bitter creature though, and the bipedal feline beneath the tree was reminded of this fact as an icy blast buffeted him, causing his tattered brown cape to mold itself to his form for a moment, revealing a tall, thin creature as cold and equally fragile as a shard of ice. His perspicacious gaze didn't waver as he dutifully planted one pale, thinly furred toe into the snow after the other, helpless as he sank nearly to his knee in the lightly packed mountain of powder. One after the other became the simple mantra that resounded in Mewtwo's mind.
He was nearing his limits -despite how much he wished to believe otherwise- his unfathomable psychic powers lay beyond his fatigued reach, and his physical body was preparing to follow suit. Frost clung to his thin pelt, and the cold had gnawed at him to the point of had he not been concentrating on where his feet moved him, he would be certain that his hindpaws no longer existed.
His breath came in short coughing gasps, intermitten with the rise of phlegm from his lungs. Hunger born weeks ago clawed at him like a beast that sought to devour him and as his right toe struck something beneath the snow, the normally graceful Pokémon stumbled, suppressing a yowl of agony as the delicate ankle attached to that foot was twisted.
However, Mewtwo had never allowed pain to be his master, and summoning the last ounce of his strength, he hauled his weakened, enfeebled body upwards to the topmost layer of the snow. The mistress of winter welcomed him into her accursed embrace with open arms, and dragging out a final rattling breath, he was certain that a frigid death awaited him as his mind buckled under the immense strain he was forcing upon his body, and darkness gripped him.
What Mewtwo found strange as he awoke was that he was no longer cold, but warm, deliciously warm, and he savored that simple blessing before allowing himself to become aware of his surroundings. He was in a simple oak paneled cabin, as evidenced by the dark natural architecture and furniture of the simple abode. Mewtwo found himself situated next to a roaring fireplace, a deep crimson blanket wrapped around his currently ragged frame. The rug and pair of pillows he had also been blessed with were equally thick and comforting, and after weeks of endless drifting through the frozen mountains of Johto, a growing part of him longed to allow himself to fully succumb to the warmth and comfort he had woken to find himself in. However, the psychic pushed the desire aside as he arose, wincing in pain as he tested his right ankle, with a forepaw still clinging to the plush fabric of the red covering as he gazed with curiosity about him.
The space was fairly open. Behind him was a hallway with two rooms, that Mewtwo guessed were a bathroom and bedroom. A plush chocolate brown couch sat diagonal to the psychic, with a small end table beside it. Beyond him was the door that he presumed led to the frigid land beyond, and to the right of that door was a small round table, with a piece of cardboard shoved beneath one of the legs, and a pair of chairs. To the right of that setting was a small cooking area, from which the sounds of bustling could be heard.
"So you're awake are you?" came a soprano voice, human and reedy with age. Wood tapped on wood as the speaker leaned against an oaken cane. Mewtwo watched the old woman who made her way towards him with curiosity. Surely this tiny woman - dressed in a red shawl, a black shirt and skirt, complete with winter boots, her hair white as a driving blizzard, with silver eyes to match - surely she hadn't dragged him through the snow. Despite the fact that Mewtwo's body weight was far less than what it had been formerly, the feat was still next to impossible. Mewtwo mulled over this curiosity a moment before a pale female Absol ghosted into the room, bringing an end to his wondering.
"Who are you stranger? From whence have you come?" the Absol asked him as she sat back on her haunches, her posture regal.
- I am Mewtwo. As for where I come from, it matters little. -
"So, you speak!" the old woman cried in surprise, then cleared her throat, composing herself. " I am Valencia Talyn Drake," the woman addressed her guest formally.
- Indeed I do,- A wry smile tugged at the corners of the psychic's mouth for a moment. -It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Madame Drake,- Mewtwo felt that the way in which the old woman carried herself suggested that she would have been as fearsome as her name suggested, and the simple title of Mrs. seemed inadequate.
"So what brings you to Blackthorn City, Mewtwo?" The old woman offered Mewtwo a steaming amber hued substance that the psychic discerned was tea, much to his delight. "The tales of the dragons, and their power perhaps?"
-Although Blackthorn's history and knowledge concerning Dragon type Pokémon is impressive and nevertheless interesting, that is not my reason for coming here,- Mewtwo said.- I journeyed here from the mountains that border Johto and Kanto, and I am seeking a way out of these mountains.-
"Ah so you and young Nightmare are not dissimilar, Mewtwo," Madame Drake said.
Mewtwo glanced at the female Absol who regarded him calmly. The psychic took a breath, and was reminded of his psychical illness as coughing wracked his lungs until he could scarcely breathe. Madame Drake was suddenly beside him urging him to sit down, one of her long bony hands across his forehead.
"Gracious Mewtwo, you're feverish!" the old woman exclaimed, and as she ministrated to his afflictions, he relented to her touch. Mewtwo craved sleep, yet Madame Drake refused to let him return to the fire's warmth until she had gotten some hot vegetable stew into him. Hardly able to resist except out of pure weariness, Mewtwo ate until his belly could hold no more. Madame Drake watched her second temporary houseguest settle himself contentedly by her fire and drift off to sleep, a cooling pack of the fresh snow from outside upon his forehead. The old woman retired for the night, leaving Nightmare to watch over the ill Pokémon.
-Why..is...life wonderful?- Mewtwo's voice murmured, and Nightmare blinked, her senses telling her that Mewtwo was still asleep. -Was everything before...just a dream...Why?-
His lips snarled and his body trembled as he fought unknown terrors in his sleep.
-Amber..- . the psychic moaned with pain and grief, and as Nightmare pressed her paw to his burning feverish flesh, noting how quickly the snow had failed him. Recrystalizing the icy slush with an Ice Beam, Nightmare attended to the psychic as best she could, knowing that Madame Drake needed her rest.
The feline Pokémon's eyes snapped open and his chest heaved, his body trembling.
"Who was it you dreamed of?" the Absol asked as Mewtwo's gaze found hers. "You spoke a name, Amber," she offered.
Mewtwo's brow wrinkled in confusion. His near flawless memory confirmed that he knew no one by that name, and he told Nightmare this, but something in him whispered that he did know that name, from somewhere.
-I feel as though I am clutching at vapors, the wisps of smoke from the smoldering embers of my subconscious mind, -Mewtwo mused, before submitting to a fitful sleep, albeit sleep that he desperately needed.