Hello, guys. Me again with another silly one-shot of the ages. Except… it's not really that silly, but it's more of this friendship thingy. I do this because I really wish to delve into a sort of relationship not often shown in one-shots or centric fics. Moving on, I hope you enjoy this friendship SnakeLucario one-shot as much as I loved writing it.

WARNING: EEP. Human Solid Snake, NOT a pure badass. You don't like that; I suggest you do NOT read this story.

Don't own Super Smash Brothers. I wish I did though. -_-;

Restoring Life's Chance

The aura of human existence was one Lucario had become accustomed to over the past several months. It was a simple sort of aura for some people, complex for others.

Take Satoshi (the Pokemon Trainer) and Mario for example. He could tell the goodness in their hearts was pure, always forgiving those who had screwed up- except for evil, though. They never let up on the fight against those who were the demonic lords of the Netherworld. Lucario respected them in the highest regard for their endeavors, very much impressed by the tales they would speak of to the young ones for bedtime stories on occasion.

While goodness was very much accepted and loved, the darkness of some auras was accepted as well, though not so much with open arms. Lucario found it especially strong with Ganondorf- to actually trust him with anything, seeing as he was by far the most evil of any of the brawlers in Smash Manor. There were not very many creatures at all who trusted him, with the exception of a couple who were less evil- but evil nonetheless- than him.

And amongst all the evil and goodness of those around him, Lucario could not exactly place a finger on one of the brawlers. That night, though, he was about to learn his aura in a rather revitalizing way.

. o 0 o .

"You seem troubled, Lucario," a friend observed, standing in the doorway of his room and keeping a casual demeanor. "The aura you create is pulsating darker than usual."

The Pokémon didn't budge from his position, simply opening his eyes and smiling a little. "Indeed the aura is pulsing," he spoke, never moving his lips but always using his thoughts. "You find that when the energy of beings are being more… controlled, you want to concentrate more on that aura. I have to admit, though, I am feeling a stranger sense than usual from a particular Smasher in this place. It's- different."

Marth cocked his head. "What in the world does that mean?"

Lucario didn't answer. He merely set his feet down upon the floor and stood there for several moments, completely oblivious to the curious man's inquiry. His head swirled with the thoughts of hate, despair, and desire for comfort. Before Marth could ask what happened, he held up a paw in response and gave him a queer sort of gaze. "Someone needs comfort," he spoke, sounding troubled. "I'm not sure who can give it to him right now, but I feel I should go and assist him with his fears."

"Do you need assistance?"

The Pokémon shook his head. "This is something I must do alone, I'm afraid. I thank you for your kind offer, though."

The blue-haired swordsman nodded, albeit reluctantly, and moved out of the doorway. He watched his friend move down the hall with quickest speed and smoothest grace with a wondrous gaze on his features. He had no idea what had happened, but he knew that Lucario would be able to do something about it within moments. He had the keenest of senses, the wisest of wisdom for those in need. There was no doubt in his mind he would be able to help the soul who desired that assistance.

. o 0 o .

He stood at the door at the farthest end of the hall, staring at the wooden piece of covering and sighed. His hand lightly tapped it, waiting for several moments before a voice, weary with time and effort, blearily called out, "It's open."

Pushing open the door slowly, Lucario walked inside and took an inward gasp of horror. The sight before him was something like a war gone wrong or a tragic accident that would have disturbed peace until the end of time.

Solid Snake sat there on the bed, staring down at his hands and shaking his head continuously. Blood was seeping out of the wounds on his arm, which appeared to be made by some sort of knife. He was shaking all over, tears pouring down his face and falling to the floor like a gentle rainfall. Lucario ran to his bedside and knelt next to him, fear etched in his features. "Snake!"

"L-Lucario?" he moaned, glancing up at the fellow Smasher in the room. "Wh-what the hell are you doing here?"

The Pokémon examined his wounds and spoke softly. "Your aura was calling for aid, for a desire for help. No one would have known about what you've done to yourself unless you called out for help. And I'm certain that call-out would have been quite slim." His paw lowered towards the scars on his arms that bore blood. "What in the name of Sir Aaron have you done to yourself?"

Snake stopped shaking his head and closed his eyes in shame. He didn't speak for several moments, allowing the red liquid to rush down his arm and create an even larger puddle on the ground. The disgrace was so much to bear at that moment- here he was, the self-proclaimed badass of the Smash Manor, and now he was nothing more than a sniveling ball of hopelessness. He feared hearing the sound of his own voice, frightened of remembering the past voices and ghosts of yesteryear.

"Snake…"

He finally looked at Lucario, giving a weakly bitter laugh and sobbing. "I had a dream. About my brother."

Lucario glanced around and spotted a towel in the corner of the room. He grabbed it and sighed, placing it on the floor beneath Snake's bleeding body and allowing it to soak up into the cloth. "The one you speak of with no name, I presume. The others believe you are obsessed with him, as if it is he who possesses you on the field of battle. Is this true?"

Snake winced at this comment and coughed, blood dribbling out of his mouth and splashing onto the towel below. "Possesses me? I fear being possessed by him. Every time after a battle, I can see him laughing at me, taunting me and asking me to become more like him." He shuddered. "It pains me to see his face each time I fight my friends."

"Painful memories of the past are hard to get rid of." The friend spoke wisely, choosing his words as to not upset the already-traumatized Smasher in the room. "I have yet to know who this person really is, but from how you have spoke of him, it sounds like a demon from the bowels of Hell itself. As if you are fighting yourself, and yet you are not."

The ex-mercenary looked down at his wounds and stayed in that position for moments unspoken. Lucario sat next to him on the bed and seemingly meditated, closing his eyes and breathing slowly. In reality, he was searching for something inside the troubled man. The more he dug, though, the deeper the wounds seemed to be. For now, he would have to settle upon something on the surface. Snake finally spoke, voice hoarse and pained. "I did it in my sleep."

Lucario didn't respond, merely opening his eyes and biting his lip. "Those are serious wounds, you know."

He cringed. "I know."

"I figured it out."

That caused the man to nearly stumble over his own words for a moment. He caught himself with a guarded response. "What do you mean?"

Lucario stood up for a moment and guided himself to the first-aid cabinet, opening the doors and taking out what appeared to be cloth and some medical tape. He walked back over to his friend and glanced at his arm, frowning, before taking a gentle hold and slipping some cloth under the injured limb. "Your aura is different from the others," he explained, wrapping it as gently as one could from such terrible scars. "I knew it was such difference since the first day, but I couldn't quite figure out why."

"You have an explanation?" Snake muttered, wincing.

"Not really an explanation, but more along the lines of an observation." He wrapped it once more and tightened it slightly, receiving a moan and sighing. "It's much more unique than everyone else's mainly because of… well, because of your heritage, I guess. You were bred to destroy people, but the people you ended up killing were those whom you believe need to be destroyed." He grabbed the tape and put some on the bandage. "The pain you were going through- and continue to endure- was the pain of death and destruction. You don't fear killing people, and yet you fear death."

The man didn't respond to this. How could he? Lucario had created a near perfect explanation for his behavior. "What does it all mean?"

The Pokémon titled his head and taped more of the wound. "I believe it means that since you have a distinguished means of killing people- so to speak- and you use it here, you have a distinctive aura… well, more distinct than everyone else's. It's not black, like those hearts of those who wish ill will upon all, nor is it pure, such as those who decree good shall reign. It's a silvery hue, one of both the good and the bad."

Snake kept his gaze fixated on the new bloodspot on the tile as Lucario finished the bandaging and proceeded to begin cleaning up the mess on the floor. "Good in some ways, not so good in other ways. Killing, which is bad, but killing for a cause to save innocent lives. Right?"

He nodded. "Exactly. The borderline between light and dark."

Snake glanced down at his arm and sighed. "Why was I called here? There had to be a specific reason for me to be called to this place. I didn't just ask to come to Smash Manor for the buffet the Pichus created."

Lucrio allowed him a chuckle before turning serious once again. "I think it's because the Smashers here needed someone new to look to. Light and dark, day and night, good and bad. They see the same thing all the time, in a sense. But you- you seemed to bring some diversity to this place. The one that no one really seems to understand what his purpose is in being here, like you said. The bringer of death to those who deserve it, an angel of shadows who seeks to find justice in this world for his wrongs."

His friend said nothing to this. He waited for Lucario to finish cleaning up the floor and gave a heavy sigh. "I'm a mess, aren't I?"

Smasher looked at comrade. His eyes were alight with a sad sort of fire, but they showed deepest compassion. "Nothing that a little friendship couldn't fix, Snake."

…eh-heh. *shot* I really enjoyed doing this for some reason. Dunno. Maybe I'm weird- wait, I've already confirmed. SO, you didn't get it, Snake injured himself NOT ON PURPOSE. He just had some issues with ghosts and dreams… moving along, I hope to do more with this in the future. You'll see it in something else. Promise. Hope you liked it. *flees*