Hey everyone! I was going to have this done in time for B/W's English release. Obviously, this did not happen. XD Being distracted by Pokemon Black hasn't helped, either.

But this morning I finally got off my butt and finished it. So yay?

This is slightly AU in that N releases Zekrom after the last fight with him. I know in-game, Looker says a very "N-ish person" was seen flying on a dragon, but for the sake of this fic, let's just pretend N adhered to his whole "Pokemon must be free" policy and let Zekrom go. Kay? Kay.

Enjoy!

Disclaimer- I do not own Pokemon, nor do I own the lyrics from the song "Vulnerable" that are used in the title and summary. Those belong to Satoshi Tajiri and Secondhand Serenade, respectively.

Reshiram has never compared her relationship with Zekrom to that of Groudon and Kyogre – has never had cause to, in the past.

It would have been an odd comparison. After all, while her deceptive shyness clashes with his near-explosive enthusiasm at times, it has never escalated to the catastrophic level that Groudon and Kyogre's had, so long ago.

Yet now, in the wake of this horrible incident, she finds herself thinking with a thrill of horror that rivals her nausea, we're almost like Groudon and Kyogre now, aren't we?

She tries not to dwell on it too much. Deep breath, deep breath. In, out, in, out, in and out until the roiling feeling in her stomach dies down a little.

To try and distract herself, she focuses on her surroundings. After that trainer had released her back into the wild (one of the rare ones, she thinks, who instead of crowing triumphantly at having caught one of the legendary titans of the world only gave her a sad, sympathetic glance before ushering her into the distance), she had headed west, straight toward the afternoon sun, letting the fires blazing endlessly on her tail become part of that light.

And now she is close to the Unova coast, if the slight tang of salt on the air is any indication. Reshiram has always been a bit of an odd legendary; instead of seeking out her element like the other legendaries, she instead is drawn to the shores, the beaches, the water sucking at the already-surrendering sand.

Some rational part of her manages to push its way to the surface. Pokes and prods at her and insists you have to tell Arceus about this, he needs to know, the other legendaries need to know.

Dully, with a forced dryness that does not befit her, Reshiram thinks Arceus probably knows already.

Still, though, the obligation remains, nagging at her like a small child tugging on its parent's sleeve. And the effect is eventually the same: Reshiram yields out of exasperation and leaves.

(Really, though, the decision is also born of weariness.)

"I see…" Arceus muses. "And did this human who captured you defeat the leader of this… Team Plasma?"

"Yes." Reshiram nods. Inwardly, she reflects that without using the actual words thank Arceus, her response does not sound as grateful, but she doesn't want to offend the god.

She frowns, though, at thinking of the next part of the story. "And then… this is the weird part. The trainer actually let me go."

Right afterward, she nearly cringes at the obviousness of her words. If she had not known Arceus for millennia, she would almost have suspected him to chide her about that; but this is the god of indulgence as well as of the living, and so he merely widens his eyes in surprise.

"Strange," he says with feeling, tilting his head to the side. "A trainer, allowing one of our own to go free even after expending so much effort on capturing you…"

His words sound carefully measured, a special kind of inflection lurking behind them. Reshiram understands his feelings; she had experienced them herself when the light of the Ultra Ball that had trapped her had cleared away to reveal the trainer giving her a sad look. Surprise probably mingles with gratefulness and confusion in Arceus' mind.

"It's strange, I know," the white dragon says aloud. "But I'm… kind of just grateful he did what he did."

At this, Arceus lifts his head from where he has lowered it to stare thoughtfully at the ground. "Yes, I suppose you're right."

"Yeah," Reshiram murmurs, just to fill the silence. She feels like if she lets the conversation lag for too long the memory of the incident that had driven her here (she can't bring herself to think about the exact details of it) will take over her thoughts and induce that nausea and fear all over again.

However, she still cannot think of anything to say, cannot dredge up a placeholder with which to drag out this lack of remembrance. So the two Pokemon sit there, snowy fire dragon and white-pelted qilin (the fact that Arceus has her pristine coloring as well seems like some kind of sick joke), silence inundating the air and terror inundating her mind.

I could have killed Zekrom, Reshiram thinks, her breath catching at the thought. And in spite of her better judgment, in spite of in whose presence she currently stands, her breath begins to come more quickly. Who knows what I could have done to him if he hadn't gone unconscious when he did?

She knows now she shouldn't have listened to those trainer's orders. Respectfully powerful as he and his Pokemon were, they were nothing compared to the legendary they had somehow managed to subdue.

And yet because they had managed to capture her, she had found herself obeying every command that came from the dark-haired boy. Even though every blow she had landed, every tongue of fire that had made contact with Zekrom's stocky frame had whipped a trail of icy agony across her heart.

"Reshiram."

She looks up and sees Arceus gazing at her, deep emerald eyes filled with the kind of sympathy she imagines only a god is capable of toward their subjects.

(Only now does she become aware of a drop of wetness oozing down her cheek.)

Arceus does not point out her lack of response or her display of weakness, only continues like nothing has occurred. "Have you spoken to Zekrom about this yet?"

"Zekrom?" Reshiram gulps. Immediately, the mental image of the black thunder dragon as she had last seen him emerges in her mind: bruised, battered, lively crimson eyes slipping closed as he collapsed in front of the boy with the long, green hair.

"Yes," Arceus says, nodding in confirmation. "You need to find him and tell him what you just told me."

Reshiram blinks, dread immediately seeping into her very bones like a poisonous fog. "B-but he was there with me, when it happened," she hedges. "He knows –"

But Arceus cuts her off with a single shake of his head. "From what you've told me, Zekrom…" The qilin hesitates, then, and Reshiram knows he is trying to think of a proper euphemism for the result of their battle.

"He was unconscious for the majority of the fight," Arceus finally completes his sentence, rather lamely, Reshiram thinks. In an instant, though, the god's composure is back in place, and he clears his throat before continuing. "And as a result, he does not know that Team Plasma was defeated."

Reshiram knows he speaks the truth, but that is not what drags at her heart with sharp talons and catches it. Arceus misinterpreted her seemingly-ignorant comment; clearly, he assumed she had only been referring to the fact that Zekrom knew nothing of how the battle had ended.

In fact, she had only been about to say he knows how badly I hurt him.

She wants to stop worrying. This is Zekrom she's thinking of, after all; the legendary with a blithe, optimistic outlook always at the forefront of his mind. For all Reshiram knows, Zekrom has taken shelter in some poor, starry-eyed wild Pokemon's den and is even now resting on his laurels, smirking at their worship of him. Just thinking about the possibility nearly coaxes a smile to her lips – before, of course, the thought of how she had all but sent him there pushes it back.

But –

She doesn't want to face her guilt just yet.

(There go the tears again. Briefly, she thinks it would almost be better if she cried tears of lava, the way Heatran supposedly does; at least this way it wouldn't happen as often.)

Arceus sighs, and she jerks, her eyes widening as she lurches around to face him. More rivulets of salty water fling out in all directions because of the abrupt movement, but she ignores that and focuses on Arceus.

"I know you might not want to see him, right now," the god says. "But you need to tell him this. He needs to hear it from you – not me, not from one of his fellow members of the council at the next meeting – but from you, his counterpart."

Reshiram is dimly aware of nodding perfunctorily, feeling as though her head and neck have decided to replace themselves with lead and marshmallow, and turning to leave.

The only thought she has as the golden doors swing shut behind her is that maybe Arceus had gotten her right all along.

She finds Zekrom fairly close to the castle where she had fought him. Daring to think even that much about it still leaves a bitter taste in her mouth, but she had already spent a few hours spent alone with her self-incriminating thoughts. As a result, she feels a little more comfortable remembering. A little, but not much.

Ironically enough, she sees him standing along the shore, not far from where she had lighted down to collect herself just that afternoon.

(Was it really that short of a time ago? Time is something Reshiram will never understand – she will leave that to Celebi and Dialga – but it's something she ponders more often than not.)

It's strange, because she has never pegged Zekrom as the type to linger by the beach; she always figured that was something she enjoyed more. Yet here he stands, his silhouette framed by the crimson light of the dying sun, letting the wet sand soak between the claws on his feet.

Every muscle in her body screams for her to balk, to remain hovering there until he gets bored and decides to leave and fly away from him. But Reshiram knows she cannot stay up in the air forever, her wings would get tired, and besides, since when has she been so afraid of her willful, strong goofball of a counterpart?

So she lets her wings relax, carefully lights down to the ground with a soft thud. Almost immediately, the sand, wet and clumped, begins to ooze over her feet, and she gets ready to move toward him with both a mental and physical deep breath.

But the moment this sensation becomes tangible to her, Zekrom turns to face her, attracted to the sound of her landing, and suddenly she regrets having not touched down more lightly.

"Hey, Reshi!" he greets, grinning in his typical manner. And in spite of her misgivings about being before him, the use of the nickname he had given her – claiming the three syllables that made up her name were too much effort for him to say – induces a feeling of warmth within her and coaxes a tiny smile onto her own slender face.

(This is what counterparts should be like, she reminds herself, as she has so many times since – Arceus, how long ago had he dubbed her that; decades now?

Counterparts shouldn't fight, comes fast on the heels of that thought, though, so she does not dwell on it for long.)

"Hello, Zekrom," she says politely, and forces her legs to heed her silent demand to lift so she can approach him. Zekrom may be oblivious, but even he might start to notice something's off if she doesn't at least try not to yell across the beach at him.

Once she gets started, walking turns out to be a welcome distraction, and Reshiram focuses stubbornly on it as she moves, soaked sand spilling with every tremor her claws make on the ground. Under any other circumstances, she would be worrying about any humans that might possibly show up and see them; but this part of Unova is relatively secluded, and besides, the line of trees just behind the two dragons are tall enough to cover their respective heights.

But all trivial things – such as walking – must soon come to an end, and soon the white fire dragon has to stop, lest she abruptly find his face pushed against her shoulder (it's not an unwelcome notion, she realizes, and suddenly she wants to complete that gesture, if only for her own sense of comfort).

"Are you…" She hesitates, not knowing how to finish; the words had just flowed forth of their own accord, and she hasn't the slightest clue how to follow it up.

Zekrom cocks his head at her, his grin dimming and becoming a mouth-twist of confusion. "What's wrong?" he asks.

Reshiram blinks, startled briefly out of her anxiety. Does he really not realize? Nevertheless, she does what she always does when Zekrom's ignorance is involved and pushes it to the back of her mind – indulges him, if nothing else.

But now comes the hard part, the part she has dreaded ever since leaving Arceus behind in the meeting room, and she hates herself for bringing it back up.

Still, though, she made a promise, and legendaries have nothing if not loyalty to their promises. "The way… we had to fight earlier," she explains, haltingly, every word catching in her throat. "Those two trainers… and Team Plasma…"

As Reshiram utters the last part, Zekrom's face abruptly wrinkles in disgust. "Oh yeah, those guys! Arceus, you would not believe what that N kid did to me," he groans, palming his forehead and closing his red-and-white eyes with a grimace. "First he brainwashes me into listening to him, and then – bringing you into it? The guy was insane!"

Reshiram's eyes widen, her heart beginning to beat faster as she tries to take all this in. N… she assumes that was the green-haired boy who had harnessed Zekrom's power. She cannot ignore the disturbingly large part of her that is deflating in relief in much the manner of a pressure-filled balloon's release at N having brainwashed Zekrom. So he didn't do it of his own free will.

Then again, what does that say about her – that she had willingly listened to the boy who had captured her?

She doesn't want to think about it, so she surfaces from her thoughts in time to hear Zekrom inquire, "My question would have to be, are you okay?"

Her head swings around so she can look him in the eye, a tiny murmur of surprise escaping her. Once her gaze locks on his face, one side illuminated by the light of the dying sun and bathing the eye on that side in a unique glow, it feels as though something has seized her by the jaw and rivets her to the spot.

Because the look on his countenance is so completely earnest it resurrects her urge to cry all over again.

Zekrom panics, then, and glances away. "C'mon," he mumbles, "can't a guy be concerned about his counterpart after nearly beating the living crap out of her?"

He looks over his shoulder at her, some of his old blitheness returning even as a smile darts across his face. "Still can't believe you beat me, though," he chuckles, sounding a little strained. "Either you've gotten better, or me getting brainwashed by a freaky green-haired kid was the best thing that ever happened to you."

Maybe that's what does it. The cocky manner that had so quickly swept any sort of worry or fear away, with all the dismissive quality of a human hand to a fly. The way getting captured by a human – the way losing the world's balance – seemed to mean nothing at all to him.

The lie that had so easily slipped from him.

And suddenly, every mental pillar that had kept Reshiram from sobbing and screaming and succumbing to exhaustion and fear and pain crumbles in the face of the flood.

"The best thing that ever happened to me?" she repeats, incredulously, her voice rising to almost unheard levels. Zekrom takes a step back, alarm etched in every line of his body, but she can't worry about his feelings anymore in the way her own have overtaken her.

"Zekrom, in case you hadn't noticed, we were fighting it out for those stupid trainers! For a conflict that, more than likely, had nothing to do with us! It…" She takes a deep breath, gulping in cool, salty sea air that suddenly seems too thin to fill her lungs. "We're lucky they decided to release us at all. They could have kept us, let us fight at their side. And you know, that wouldn't be so bad, because at least I wouldn't have to deal with you goofing around and acting like an idiot and spewing crappy jokes all the time, but the world needs us, Zekrom! You – both of us – got so lucky, because the one who caught you was compassionate and understood that, and N was going to let you go anyway; keeping you was probably the last thing on his mind after you let him down."

Zekrom stares at her, slightly slack-jawed at her uncharacteristic outburst. However, at this pause, he recovers a little, actually pulls himself together long enough to draw in breath to speak before she beats him to it.

"I'm not done!" she snarls, making him quail. "Want to know what the stupid part is? Afterward, you know, after Team Plasma left, and the trainer let me go – after all that, after I could get far enough away to avoid human eyes and lick my wounds properly, all I could think about was you. All I could even contemplate – not the weirdness of humans, not the way I barely even had any wounds – but you. Whether or not you were all right.

"And now I find you here, standing on the beach, my sanctuary, not yours, telling me you getting brainwashed enough to fight me back was the best thing that happened to me." She spits out the last part in a scorn-laced tone, albeit slightly dulled by the suppressed tears that all but rip her words apart. "Why… why don't you take anything seriously? I came here wanting to talk with you, wanting to tell you why I never want to do that again, why I never want to be your counterpart the way Kyogre is with Groudon – and you try to laugh this off like nothing happened? Like I just… I don't know, stepped on your foot or swung my tail flames in your face or something?

"Because I almost killed you, Zekrom. I don't ever want that to happen again. And yet here you are acting like I didn't – like you're so invincible and nothing can throw you."

Zekrom's jaw snaps fully shut now, and those wide eyes watch her.

Reshiram finds herself desperately panting in the wake of her outburst, not knowing how to follow it up, feeling incredibly vulnerable now. For some reason, the thought of how walking had soothed her earlier comes back, and she heeds it again, moving forward with leaden feet. Self-hatred surges through her at the way Zekrom takes an alarmed step backward (she has never terrified him this much), but she fights it back long enough to keep moving.

After what seems like an eternity, she halts directly in front of him, and tilts her slender head slightly downward to more properly look at him. (The height difference is ironic, because males are supposed to be taller than females; then again, though, most of the counterpart pairings have to do this, and Reshiram supposes Arceus just has an odd sense of humor.)

And the one question that plagued her practically since her speech began floats to the tip of her tongue and issues out into the air.

"What makes you think you're invincible?"

"I don't," Zekrom immediately amends, the hasty retort so childish that Reshiram nearly rolls her eyes – before he continues and throws that urge out the window.

"I… I laugh things off because that's just easier, sometimes."

She blinks.

"Don't look at me like that," Zekrom says, sounding incredibly flustered. "It… it's easier than having to think about things. Puts it out of everybody's mind. Including mine."

His gaze meets hers rather steadily, considering the trepidation that had filled him just moments before, and Reshiram realizes he has a point.

Because after all, hadn't she coveted that exact same ability, right after leaving Team Plasma's castle – wanted to put it out of her mind and not think about it? Isn't this the reason why she can indulge him so, when he laughs and jokes and acts so oblivious?

"So no, I don't think I'm invincible. No way in hell. I don't even know where you could've gotten that idea." Zekrom chuckles, locks his clawed hands behind his back and looks to the fiery sky. "Well, actually, yeah, I do. I guess it's kind of easy to get that impression when I act like nothing fazes me."

Reshiram follows his gaze and realizes he has fixed those crimson-and-ivory eyes in the direction where the legendaries' traditional meeting hall floats in the sky.

"But I'm not…" Zekrom swallows, seems to mentally back up, if the way he closes his eyes and shakes his head is any indication. "A bunch of things can throw me off, Reshiram. When I got captured…" He lowers his head to the waves that lap at the sand just a few feet away from where he stands, and Reshiram takes a worried step forward at his expression, visible even from her limited side view of him.

"All I could think about was whether or not you'd notice I was gone," he murmurs, so softly she has to strain to hear. Once she does catch the words, though, she rears back a little, surprised in spite of herself. And yet at the same time, her heart begins to pound, a feeling that only intensifies as he continues. "And then when I got sent out and saw you standing in front of me… Brainwashed or not, it hurt, to have to fight you.

"After everything happened and I came to, N released me. Said something about how I'd helped him so much, but he understood I had a duty to fulfill, and waved me off. Back then, I didn't even want to think about any of it – falling under his control, you winning against me, not knowing how everything had turned out – so I just left. Didn't really consider what he said."

It is such an exact echo of what had happened to Reshiram that it steals her breath away.

"Zekrom…" she manages, not knowing what else to say. I'm sorry I judged you so quickly? It's good to know you feel the same way?

Instead, she finds herself taking one of Zekrom's habits, and tries to steer them away from the conversation that obstructs her airway and loosens her tear ducts and brings heat normally reserved for the fire of her attacks to her cheeks. "It's weird to hear you opening up like this," she says, a tiny, pathetic chuckle embedded in her voice.

At this, Zekrom jerks his head up to stare at her, eyes wide with a kind of childish indignation. "Hey, don't laugh!" he cries in a tone that can only be dubbed as a whine. "I'm actually trying to be honest now."

Despite everything, Reshiram feels a tiny smile trying to worm its way onto her lips. "I appreciate that," she says, honestly. Steeling herself, she takes that final step forward, so that she stands right in front of him. "Thank you."

Zekrom shrugs, angling his head upward to look away. "No problem," he mutters gruffly. Then, "Arceus, this feels weird."

Reshiram tilts her head to the side. "What, being serious?" When he nods, still refusing to move his head to meet her gaze (a fact that she suddenly hates), she sighs. "Zekrom, this situation kind of needs it. We just… we just almost killed each other; it's not really something you can laugh off."

Well, she can say it out loud. That's progress.

"You're right," Zekrom says, in an oddly subdued tone for him. Before she can contemplate it, however, he turns to face her. "I know you're right," he says, this time with a soft, subtle determination.

He takes her hand. The contact feels strange, but it sends a powerful tingle all the way down to the tips of her claws and seems to vibrate against the sand that permeates the spaces between them. Reshiram tries to tell herself that the way her breath suddenly comes more quickly stems from the amount of salt in the air and nothing more, but she can tell it's a wasted attempt at justifying what she is experiencing.

To his credit, Zekrom keeps any hint of anxiety that would echo hers fairly under control. Briefly, a tiny, goofy smile crosses his face, before it vanishes, replaced by the sincerity that has marked him throughout this entire conversation. Right after, a sudden gust of wind moves over them, and Reshiram has the crazy idea that it swept her counterpart's smile away.

"I just never really want to expose my vulnerable side," he admits quietly. "But… after today…"

Reshiram shakes her head, not wanting to hear any more about today. Not wanting to think about the realities and unwelcome comparisons today entailed. "Don't," she murmurs, bringing up her free hand and placing a white claw on his lips. The evidence of the contact is starkly visible due to their color contrast – white on black – and abruptly she wants to cry all over again, at this reaffirmation of their relationship.

White and black. Fire and electricity. Slender and stocky. Yin and yang.

And she wonders how she had been so worried about them ever becoming like Kyogre and Groudon in the first place.

"Don't talk about today," she elaborates on her prior statement. Zekrom widens his eyes just a fraction; she does not know whether the gesture comes from her touching his face or from her words. Nevertheless, she continues. "We just know it's not going to happen again."

"Well, I don't know about that," Zekrom remarks, startling her enough to drop her hand back to her side. For the smallest of instants, fear crowds in again and makes no room for anything else; but his next words make her relax. "If you steal a cookie that Entei made from me again, I might reconsider."

Reshiram gives him an exasperated look and considers blasting him with a Fusion Flare for even daring to joke now (especially in light of their conversation) – then relents. After all, at the very least, she knows now that he can be vulnerable – and that he can support her vulnerable side without laughing or letting her fall.

It's a welcome realization.

And so she twines her claws against her counterpart's (white and black all over again). She looks toward the sunset, focusing on the tiny, tiny pinprick in the distance that represents the meeting hall, where Arceus undoubtedly is getting ready for his night patrol – and smiles.

Abrupt endings ftw!

Reviews would be nice, especially since legendary shipping fics are steadily dwindling in popularity. D: