He dropped his hat when he saw the Pokémon stretched on the couch and the Antidote syringe and a bottle of Super Potion emptied of their contents on the coffee table. A near-depleted roll of bandages sat on the table and a pair of scissors lay open on the floor. Logan gasped, "What Pokémon is that? What have you been doing?"
"Its called Mewtwo," sighed Cynthia, exasperation and exhaustion in her voice as she stood from her kneeling spot next to the Pokémon. "Its been badly hurt and pushed to the brink of exhaustion. It helped save our lives."
"'Our lives?'" Logan echoed as he approached her. "Where's Anne?"
"In the kitchen." She motioned behind him with a wave of the hand.
His expression softened and he took her by the shoulders. "Its nothing," she protested, reading his mind, "the shock wore off – that's all."
"Go to bed and let me handle this."
She shook her head.
"Then sit down. I can't worry about you too."
Cynthia nodded, half defeated and half resigned. She sat in the recliner with a sigh. "I did what I could," she informed.
"Thank you," he answered.
He stepped over to see Rodi setting a cup of hot cocoa in front of the little girl in a t-shirt too big for her. She leaned against her arm, eyes dark and downcast.
Logan turned to see his Raichu already examining the lithe Pokémon, its paws to work checking for a pulse and listening for a heartbeat. He rolled his sleeves to the elbow to join his trusty Pokémon.
It did not take much to reveal this Mewtwo was malnourished, dehydrated, and barely alive. The Super-Potion helped heal any cuts and bruises, and the Antidote kept the poison at bay until he could extract it and make a better Antidote. It was the old, inconvenient way before the instantaneous Pokémon Center technology, but it would have to do since Cynthia insisted on no centers. She explained it was a wanted experiment – the one his brother had saved.
He watched the tube fill with blood. "I happened across a pair of Pokémon Hunters while I was on my way here," he began and glanced at Cynthia, who sat at weary attention. She kept her eyes on his work. "Where those two the cause of this?" he asked. She nodded, closing her eyes. She leaned back into the recliner to speak.
"Mom?" Anne's voice cut Cynthia off. "Is Mewtwo going to be okay?"
Cynthia sighed and motioned the girl to sit in her lap with a brief pat. The girl tiptoed to her and climbed up with a frown. "Mewtwo will be fine, sweetie. Especially now that Logan is here," Cynthia answered and stroked her hair. Anne burst into tears from sheer exhaustion.
Logan gave Cynthia a silent plea to take Anne to their room. Cynthia lifted Anne and carried her upstairs.
The doctor turned to his patient to finish his formula. His Raichu placed a wet washcloth on the Pokémon's forehead and glanced to Logan with a worried squeak. Logan sighed and said to the Psychic type, "You need to survive. You saved their lives and my brother sacrificed himself to save you." He grabbed a vial full of yellow liquid medicine in the kit Rodi brought to him. "You owe it to them."
He drew the medicine from the vial and found a vein to stick the needle into. He grimaced at the amount of scars from IVs in the Pokémon's arm. "You've been through a lot. Giving up might feel like the best option – believe me, I know. I've been there. But you have to see the world. You have to know that life is wonderful."
Mom pulled the covers up to my chin and stroked my hair in comfort. "Its alright," she whispered as I hiccupped. "Its alright."
She gave me a kiss, one of the last things I remembered from that night before I fell asleep and slipped into a dream.
It felt claustrophobic and dark as I found myself falling into darkness. I settled into a cold, viscous fluid and sunk in. This wasn't right. The world was cold and liquid, with metal all around. I saw a low light ahead of me when I settled and squinted to see better. My forehead bumped something – a glass.
"Hello?" I called out and pressed my nose to the glass to see Mewtwo curled in a tight ball. "Hey! Mewtwo!" I shouted and banged on the glass. "Help!" I felt around and found myself in no some kind of tube. I tried to find the top, but it was too tall.
"Mewtwo!" I hit the glass a few more times, but it hurt my hands. A realization hit me – Dad told me to look at my hands when I was in a scary dream, then I could control it. I looked at the dream hands, which looked ghost-like and glitched out compared to my real hands.
This was a dream, I told myself.
The claustrophobia disappeared and I drifted closer to Mewtwo. I pressed my hands to the glass and made it disappear with a blink of the eyes. "Mewtwo, wake up," I hissed as I shook his arm. He decreased in size before my eyes and uncurled to face away from me. He was my height, and maybe a little thinner.
Before me materialized three Pokémon: Charmander, Squirtle, and Bulbasaur, but each had dark markings, like scars, all over their bodies. I let go of the psychic type and watched as the four of them spun in a small circle, like a game of ring around the rosy.
"Mewtwo?" I finally found my voice. The smaller Mewtwo looked at me, his eyes wide and innocent, not hard and cold as now.
"Amber?" he asked as he floated closer to me, his voice no more than a tiny whisper. I shook my head. "I'm Anne Noon."
His brow furrowed before he squeezed his eyes shut and put a hand to his face. The three starter Pokémon disappeared in shimmers of light. Mewtwo groaned in my head. "I don't remember. The memories. They're blank. Gone."
"Its okay," I whispered and put a hand on his shoulder.
"No," he mumbled and turned away from me.
"What are you doing here?" asked a deeper voice behind me. I turned and found a taller Mewtwo, his eyes sharp and cold now. His brow furrowed ever slightly. "How did you get in my head?"
I shook my head and answered, "I don't know."
"I remember your voice. I remember hearing you cry."
"Crying is stupid," I answered as I looked away from him. "I was tired. I shouldn't cry. Mom needs me to be strong like her."
"Your mother sounds lucky to have you."
I thought about the picnic from before. Suddenly, the dark landscape we sat in faded away and the beautiful spring scene replaced it. I was in my bathing suit again and we stood at the edge of the picnic blanket. Mewtwo stared down at the set up and scanned the horizon. I sat down to eat some of the lemon squares.
"Its beautiful," he whispered. The forest and hills sprawled out before us. "This is the first time I've ever stopped to look around at the world." He folded his hands behind his back and it all in.
Butterfree soared above us, crying out in their sad, squeaking voices.
Mewtwo sat next to me and picked up a sandwich triangle. "I'm so hungry. I haven't eaten in days." He bit into it and frowned. "It's a dream," he reminded himself.
"But its good," I added. He put the square down and sighed, laying his arm on his knee. His long tail waved back and forth. "You know, I should thank you. You and your mother helped me tap into power I didn't know I had – I erased Team Rocket's memories of you and the battle. I didn't know I could." He paused to lean his face into the wind.
"Oh," I said. "Well. You're welcome."
"Something else, too. There's a lot about the world I don't understand. So little I've seen and heard and experienced." He picked a blade of grass. "I… I don't know why life is wonderful. But every night, I dream of a girl's voice who tells me so." He peered at me, the amethyst in his eyes turning soft. "Do you know why life is supposed to be wonderful?"
I thought for a moment. I shook my head when nothing came to mind. Except something popped up. "Oh, uh, maybe love makes it wonderful?"
He considered this, his eyes drifting over the horizon. Clouds sped along, racing with the wind and the trees applauded the beauty of the noontime.
"What do you think about me staying with you and your mother for a little while? At least until I can get a grasp on things and Team Rocket will stop looking for me."
"I think Mom would like that. Without Dad… I don't know." I curled my knees close to my chest. "I don't know what the future looks like anymore. I used to wake up and know what the day would be like. But now…" The landscape became overcast as a cloud blocked the sun. "You know?"
"I think I can sympathize," he answered and reached over hesitantly to touch my shoulder. "Its… Its alright, Anne."
I smiled to him and crawled closer to him to hug his side. He felt thin and lanky, but it was easier to hug. He held his arms up, unsure what to do. "I'm giving you a hug," I informed. "Do you know what a hug is?"
He put his arms around me and answered, "I think I do now."
We sat in silence and watched the sun come out from behind the clouds, the lake below shimmering and dancing like a jewel.
The morning light woke him, filtered into the windows by the lace curtains. Mewtwo felt sore from head to toe and still exhausted. He blinked and tried to grip his hands to no avail. He cursed the countless days spent running and cursed the hunters whose faces were still imprinted in his mind.
Jase. His mind went back to him and he remembered the dream conversation with Anne. He owed it to them to stay alive. He remembered Jase's smiling face and the conversations they held, though they only lasted minutes. The undercover reporter had become a highlight in his meager existence.
The man had already been there when Mewtwo was transferred to Giovanni's laboratory facility. Jase had been a swirl of emotions – homesickness, disgust, and nervous tension – where others in the facility were husks, mere vessels of hatred. Because of Jase, he found not all humans were like those in Team Rocket.
While Giovanni made Mewtwo work on his powers and honing his skills, Jase taught Mewtwo a little more about the world by sharing memories and thoughts with him. Jase felt nothing but affection and maybe pity for the experiment as the pair often discussed human hierarchy, geography, and other things alien to Mewtwo's metal, glass, and weaponized world.
He lifted a weak arm to look at his hand. Now Jase's family might teach him about life. He could start living. He could be a real Pokémon – something the scientists made sure he knew he was not. He was a clone. A fake. A puppet for Giovanni.
Pain ached through his arm and he lowered it, grimacing. His chest felt sore with each breath and it hurt to move. He closed his eyes to let the ache flow through him, ebbing like heavy ocean waves.
"Mewtwo," whispered a voice and he opened his eyes to see Cynthia kneeling next to him. "Sorry to disturb you. Do you think you can eat?"
"How…? How long have I been out?" he asked with his thoughts, the only way he knew how to speak.
She smiled to him. "Two days," she answered. "We weren't sure you'd make it." She glanced at the man slumbering in the chair next to her with a Raichu in his lap.
"Is that Jase's brother? He told me about him. About you and your adventures together." He sighed. "Your daughter told me a lot, too."
"I know. She's been dreaming about you," she explained as she stood. "I'll be back with soup."
He watched her tiptoe to the kitchen to his right. Pain grabbed his attention again and shook him with pins and needles everywhere. He closed his eyes to fight it.
Cynthia returned with a bowl of Torchic noodle soup. She placed it on the table next to the couch and lifted Mewtwo gently with her cool hands. She sat on the couch and cradled him in her lap so his head leaned against her shoulder.
"Thank you," he sighed as he stared into her calm eyes. She placed the lip of the bowl to his lips and he sipped the liquid eagerly. He coughed when some of it went down the wrong pipe. Cynthia smiled as she placed the bowl on the table and wiped his mouth as he coughed for breath. "Its alright," she reassured him with a whisper.
He wanted to fall asleep again, the exhaustion from exerting his body to cough was more than enough, but his hunger demanded he stay awake. Mewtwo stared into Cynthia's eyes, entranced by her calm demeanor. He drank more of the warm soup and felt it tickle down into his empty stomach.
"How does that feel? Good?"
"Yes. I'm so tired."
"That sounds about right. You were almost dead. We can't have you dying on us."
"Why am I in so much pain?"
"Don't worry about the pain. Drink." She put the bowl to his lips again.
Once he finished the soup, she laid him out on the couch again and covered him with a fleece blanket. Tears filled his eyes and he sobbed, "I'm a monster. I'm a fake – a, a copy. You should have left me to die."
She stroked his crown as the tears flowed. She wiped them up with the unused corner of the napkin and knelt next to him. "You're not a monster," she whispered, her voice firm. "If my husband saw it fit to free you, he knew there was good in you. Let go of whatever those scientists told you."
Mewtwo squeezed his eyes shut as a sob caught in his throat. "What's wrong with me?"
"You've been through a trauma. You're in a vulnerable state, emotionally and physically. We all need to heal from this." She continued to wipe up the tears. He looked at her and whispered, "Thank you."
He caught a glimpse of tears in her eyes as well before she blinked them away and nodded. "Go to sleep, now," she ordered.
He found it was easy to follow her command.