16

NEBULA

By Marisa Mockery

— — — — — —

CHAPTER NINE

— — — — — —

"Okay, Celeste. You remember what you promised. You'll stick right by me, right?"

"Right," Celeste answered proudly. The nine-year-old sat straight and tall atop her Ponyta, every inch a young horsewoman. She stroked Tony's fiery blue mane happily, and waved at the forest bordering the ranch. "Let's go!"

Pina bit her lip for a moment, worried. But...well…

She sighed. Her mother had sanctioned the trip, and that had to be enough for her. She kicked Dashing's sides gently. "Okay. But follow me, okay? Don't wander off on your own!"

"I won't," Celeste answered, a little hurt. "I play follow the leader all the time!"

"With hallucinations," Pina muttered, but too low for Celeste to hear. "C'mon, Cellie. Let's get going."

Celeste smiled and followed her sister's Rapidash onto a dirt path proudly. This was the first time she had been allowed off the ranch in years—so though for Pina it was a simple ride through the forest, for Celeste, it was the grandest of adventures.

"When are we going to go fast?" Celeste asked her sister eagerly. Since entering the forest Pina had kept Dashing at a steady walk, and showed no signs of speeding up.

"We're not," Pina answered shortly.

"Why?" Celeste pouted unhappily. "I can do it!"

"That's not the point, Cellie. We're just going on a walk today. Maybe next time we'll ride a little faster."

Celeste heaved a heavy sigh. "That's no fun." Her eyes trailed to the scenery around her, then widened. She laughed.

"Cellie?" Pina asked hesitantly, biting her lip. "Are you okay?"

"I'm—hehe!—I'm fine."

Pina narrowed her eyes. "Cellie, what are you looking at?"

Celeste shook her head seriously. "Nothing." But she only held the pose for a second before breaking out into more laughter.

"Right. We're heading back home," Pina ordered, pulling Dashing's head to the left. Celeste's eyes widened.

"I don't want to! We just got started! This isn't fair!"

Pina sighed, and shook her head. "Life isn't fair, Celeste—"

Celeste gasped. Pina tried not to swear, and grabbed for Tony's reins just as Celeste kicked the Ponyta's sides.

"Celeste! Stop! Get back here!" Pina screamed as the little girl dashed into the forest, the Ponyta under her galloping as though the demons of hell were after him. Pina kicked at Dashing's sides.

"Catch her!" she cried. Dashing snorted with excitement and in a split second pushed himself into a gallop. He knew his rider was worried about her sister, but more importantly that upstart Ponyta had galloped off thinking he could outrun a Rapidash. He would be schooled quite quickly. Dashing tossed his head and sprinted, his diamond hooves leaving little holes in the dirt as he passed. He caught sight of the runt's blue tail, and pushed faster, as though the little pony was a Grand Derby finish line. Dashing would never be outrun by a Ponyta

Then, a creek appeared, at least ten feet in width. Pina and Dashing, having won many a jumper tournament, cleared it and landed on the other side.

Tony hadn't.

Pina pulled Dashing to a stop and dismounted. She ran to her sister, who was crying, Tony's head in her lap. She looked injured, with cuts and bruises, but didn't appear to notice. Pina's hand reached up to fidget with her Friend Ball.

Tony's fire was out.

Dashing walked to the edge of the creek and tried to huff in Tony's face. There was no response. Dashing snorted and tried again.

"We—we have to get him out of the water," Pina said quickly. She tried to pull the animal free, but he was too heavy for Pina to lift alone.

"Celeste, help me!" she snapped. Celeste didn't look up.

"Z-Zammy…he…and Tony…"

"Cellie! Focus!"

Celeste jumped, but realized what her sister wanted to do. With the two of them pushing they managed to drag the Ponyta out of the water. Pina winced. Tony breathed laboriously, eyes dull, the fire on both tail and mane completely out. Dashing sniffed him, then reared and backed away.

"Tony…no…"

Pina took a deep breath. "Okay. You ride behind me. We'll come out here with the hands and bring him in—"

Celeste scrubbed tears from her eyes and shook her head. "Espy will fix him."

Pina sighed, exasperated. "Cellie, a hallucination cannot heal a horse!"

"Espy can," the girl replied calmly. "She'll fix him."

— — — — — —

"Is this it?"

Pina stared at the map in front of her, then looked at the small house before her as Paul parked the Jeep. She bit her lip, then nodded.

"Okay then. Let's get moving." Paul hopped out of the vehicle, and Pina followed. The house seemed nice enough, with white walls and blue trim, but there was an unsettling feeling about it. A large flag with an orange field and several black stars hung above the door, and a black-leafed wreath with orange fruit graced the blue front doors. The door opened, and in the doorway stood an older, slightly overweight woman with pink hair cut in a tight bob, dressed in comfortable purple sweatshirt and pants. The woman smiled when she saw the two on the doorstep.

"Paul!" she said cheerfully. "Oh, perfect! Come in, come in, curfew's almost started." She ushered them both in, then slammed the door shut and began to lock it. Pina noticed there were a great deal of locks—she counted four by the time the woman was done. Paul cocked his head.

"I don't remember that when I was here last time," he said. The woman sighed.

"Things have changed here." She smiled at the two and waved them into the kitchen. "My name is Amelia," she said cheerfully, glancing at Pina.

"I'm Pina," Pina answered, smiling a little herself. She had expected the woman to be a little more serious, like Looker—not relaxed and motherly. She could even smell a fragrant homey scent coming from the kitchen. Pina grinned widely. Vegetable soup. Her favorite.

"Sit at the table. I've made dinner," Amelia said. "I'm sure you two are hungry."

"Very," Pina replied, but paused to look around. The interior of the house was as cute as its exterior, with a nice wooden table with a pretty chair and against a wall a comfortable couch. A large flat-screened television blared out the news, though Amelia and Paul appeared to be ignoring it. In the back was a stone fireplace, a fire crackling cheerfully inside. Above the mantle was a large portrait of two women and two little twin boys sitting together, all dressed in cute little suits or nice dresses. Pina could recognize one of the women as Amelia, though only with effort. The Amelia in the portrait looked younger, with a wide, infectious smile, with no trace of the worry lines that decorated her face now. There were also pictures of two young children sprawling across the hallway and up a flight of stairs—all, it appeared, the same boys, only at different ages. Pina reached for her Friend Ball.

There were no children in the house.

"Follow me," Amelia said awkwardly, noticing Pina's glances at the portraits. She entered the kitchen and began to lay out the table. Paul automatically grabbed silverware from a drawer to help her, and the two fell into conversation. Pina, feeling a little useless as she didn't know Amelia or the way her kitchen worked, merely sat down.

"How's Mary holding up?" Paul asked as he lay out napkins and bowls. Amelia sighed.

"It's rough. She's so stressed…" She looked at Pina. "Paul already knows, but I'm sure you don't. Mary's on the City Counsel. It's never been easy, but…" She paused. "A few months back, she started getting headaches. They've been getting worse and worse…we went to a doctor. He said there was nothing wrong, but gave us a prescription for the pain…" She sighed. "She should be home soon." She looked at Pina, then shook her head. "Honestly. Have you two been eating? You look starved!"

Pina smiled a little, toying with a spoon. "Rest stops. Don't worry about it."

Amelia shook her head disapprovingly and put a full bowl of soup in front of each teen. "That's not food. Eat!"

Pina grabbed a spoon and dug in. The soup reminded her of her mother's, but saltier. She sighed. It was a little too salty for her, but she was sure Celeste would have liked it. As she ate, she heard loud knocking from the front door.

"Mary?" Amelia called, and jumped from her chair. Paul rose as well, but the woman merely waved him down, darting to the front door. Peeking through the eyehole to be sure, she called, "Mary, is that you?"

"Yes," a tired voice replied. Amelia immediately began to unbolt the door, and after a few minutes of locks clanking and keys clashing, allowed Mary inside. As soon as the woman entered, she locked and bolted the door shut once more. Mary sighed and let a briefcase fall from her limp hands in the hallway. She then walked into the kitchen, massaging her head with each step.

"Soup?" she asked, not looking up. Then she glanced at the table, where Pina and Paul sat, spoons in hand.

"Oh…Paul. And…?"

"Pina," Pina answered, unsure of how to interact with the woman. Though dressed in a sharp business suit, Mary appeared wilted, and what was clearly once beautifully styled hair clung limply against her sallow face. Her brown eyes had heavy bags hidden under thick makeup, and each stride was heavy and slow. She crashed into a kitchen chair as Amelia placed a bowl of soup before her.

"How bad is it?" Amelia asked.

Mary groaned. "It's bad…" She rubbed her forehead, then glanced at Paul. "It's nice to see you, Paul. And I've heard all about you, Pina. Do you have Chimera with you?"

"Yes. We think if we get it into Eterna Forest, it can find where it came from."

"The forest, eh?" She looked over at Amelia. "Any wine, Amy?"

"No." Amelia pointed at the bowl, and handed Mary a spoon. "Soup. Eat."

Mary sighed. "I'm not very hungry. Today was…" Her face turned stormy. "It's gone bad, Amy."

"Bad?" Amelia sat down, and took Mary's hand. "What happened?"

Mary merely shook her head in reply. Both Paul and Pina waited, intensely curious about what had tired Mary out so.

. "They're…it's…they act like they're all insane," she said finally. "Celestic City and Floraroma allied with us today. They each sent a representative…"

Amelia looked taken aback. "So what does that mean?"

"If things keep going as they are…" Mary sighed. "I'm trying to stall, but—there's a final vote on Friday. If it goes through…" Mary looked down and toyed with her spoon. "We'll declare war on the Alliance."

All three gasped, and Amelia's face turned pale. "But—your—but the peace treaty?"

"I don't know what happened. One minute everyone was ready to sign the agreement, then Celestic's representative showed up—" She groaned, and rubbed at her forehead. "Even Tom agreed with her, and he's always been against declaring war. I don't understand it. Amy, we don't have nearly the firepower that the Alliance has, even if we draft all of our Pokémon trainers. Celestic has never had armed forces. Floraroma is a joke. If we take the Alliance on we'll get slaughtered. I got that through their heads, and they were ready to sign the peace treaty…then that girl came, and everyone suddenly became war hawks." She rubbed at her forehead again. "Tom says we have a secret weapon now. What could be so secret that I don't know about it!" She shook her head. "The light's too bright here. Amy, I'm going to go rest." Mary glanced at Paul and Pina and gave a weak smile. "I'm sorry I couldn't bring home more pleasant news."

"No, no," Pina said quickly, catching Paul's eye. "Please, go rest. You've done enough today."

Mary nodded and stood up. Amelia bit her lip, then quickly grabbed a tray and put the bowl on it. "I'll bring this with you," she said. "Paul, Pina, I'll be back in a moment."

"Of course." The two disappeared up the stairs, leaving Pina and Paul alone.

Paul shot out of the chair. "We've got to move." He darted into the refrigerator and left with a loaf of bread and a bag of sliced cheese. "Good enough," he said, shoving the food into his backpack. Pina gave him a funny look. "I think we've got a long drive," he said simply. "This smells bad."

"You think Nebula's behind it?"

"I'm not sure. But either way, borders are going to get tight very soon. We need to get out of here."

Pina nodded. "Amelia, Mary, we're leaving, lock the door behind us!" she called as they dashed out the front door. It reopened just as the two jumped into Looker's Jeep and took off. Amelia stood on the porch for a moment, then sighed and went back inside. It was time to call Looker.

— — — — — —

It hurt. A lot.

This was the one thought that dripped into Phobos' brain as he rode the wave of sleep into consciousness. The pain raced through his body to the point where he didn't even dare open his eyes. Why did it hurt so much? Even after the worst of surgeries, Lord Sol had always given him painkillers—

Lord Sol.

Everything came back in a rush. The escape attempt. Deimos' betrayal. Luna…and her blank eyes. No. He couldn't think about that, not yet. Not if he wanted to stay sane. If he was sane. Now, the boundary was blurring…

No. He wouldn't think about that, about any of it. For now, he simply wanted to know why he hurt so much, and where he was. He knew someone had laid him down flat on his stomach, with a pillow framing his face so he gingerly rested his head on his right cheek. The left side of his head burned with pain, and opening his eyes became a Herculean feat. However, he eventually did—or at least opened the left. The other, as he carefully reached up to touch, was covered with a thick bandage. He gingerly braced himself on his forearms, one of which was in a cast. He stared at it in bafflement.

Someone had dressed his wounds. Someone had put him here, wherever here was. Someone had made sure he had a pillow to rest his head on.

Why?

Lor—no. Sol. Phobos knew Sol did not take kindly to treachery. Phobos shouldn't be here, wherever he was. He should in the same place as Luna. He should be—gone. Not bandaged and cared for. Not alive.

He slowly turned on his side, wincing. Everything past his waist hurt like hell—almost as bad as the pain coming from his face. He looked downward, and saw one of his legs was in another cast. That wasn't a problem. In fact, the cast barely registered on his brain at all. Because, laying on top of his legs and draped down the back of the cast…was a Raichu tail.

He stared at it for a moment, his mind blank. Slowly he pushed himself upright, and with a wince, touched it. He felt the fur rustle, and a sense of being touched under his fingertips. Move, he thought, and the tail's tip twitched. He recoiled in horror.

Because he knew. He knew there were no Raichus available for surgery. Just as he knew his Pikachu, which had always insisted on never evolving, was the only Pikachu in the compound. Only Pikachu, who had never had a surgery, because Phobos worked so hard to protect him.

For a moment, he stopped moving, as still as a statue. He couldn't even breathe.

Sol didn't take kindly to traitors…

He screamed. When no one answered, he screamed again. Heedless of any pain, he punched the pillow. Then the floor. Then the wall. It rattled under his fist, and he saw he had, in fact, punched a vent. It didn't matter. Pikachu had been forced to evolve, and now was heavily mutilated—possibly worse. There could be no argument. Phobos was attached to the evidence.

Pikachu—no, Raichu—was now an unprotected victim. Luna was dead. And for some reason, Phobos had been left alive, knowing these things.

The ultimate punishment.

— — — — — —

Day after silent day passed—or at least so Phobos assumed, as the lights never shut off, and no open windows reached whatever pit he'd been thrown into. He had the room memorized now—white walls, white floor, with a foam pad for a bed and a hole in the ground for a toilet. Not that mattered. He knew one would come in; if he hadn't known about a place like this, there was no way anyone else would…which meant he was alone. For good. Phobos had always liked people, and knowing he would probably never see another person again dug away at what little sanity he had left. He talked to himself, sang songs, anything to fill the silence. If it was quiet, he remembered things. Things he very much wanted to forget. Raichu…Luna…

How could he be so stupid? Why did he possibly think escape would work? Luna had been right, and she died. He hadn't. Why was he alive? Why—

"What on earth happened to you, kid? You've been going on for quite a while."

Phobos blinked. The voice—it couldn't be, but it didn't sound like his. But that wasn't possible. Sol would never allow him access to another person. He would never relent this punishment. Never…

"Sorry I waited so long. I just had to make sure you were insane. If they ever come to check on you, they won't believe you heard me."

Phobos gasped, his head turning to see every angle of the room. There was no one there. But the voice…

He frowned. "I'm not insane," he answered guardedly. Then he paused. "Perhaps I am. I'm hearing voices. I guess I've finally cracked…"

"You cracked ages ago. But don't worry about it. For someone insane, you're remarkably sane."

Phobos' eyes narrowed. "What does that mean?"

"You're just sane enough to be insane, kid. Don't worry too much."

"What does that mean? Who's talking to me?!"

"Look at the vent."

Phobos blinked, and turned. Bright light streamed through the tilted slots, except a shadow—

"A hand?"

"Mine," the voice replied. "I'm not something you've made up. My code name is Atlas."

The voice was deep, and masculine. Phobos cocked his head. It sounded like it belonged to an adult—something he had never seen in the compound, barring Sol and the late Persephone.

"My name is Phobos," Phobos said.

"No, no," Atlas replied, clearly irritated. "You do have a name. But it isn't Phobos."

"What? That's—that's my name! I don't have any other…" His eye narrowed. "Do you?"

"Of course. Our 'names' are merely code names. I've forgotten my real name, unfortunately. I had to give up a few things to remember the important things. Is Persephone still around? She was good at making people forget 'unnecessary facts'."

"No. She served Lord Sol in a final experiment. Everyone serves Lord Sol." The words were so routed in memory that Phobos almost didn't hear himself say them. Atlas sighed.

"Ah. So Sol murdered her. Then I'm the last."

"M-murder?" Even with the heretic thoughts that constantly crossed Phobos' mind, he had never even thought to apply that word to Sol.

"Oh yes. He murdered many people to get what he wants. It's experiments now, is it? It used to be 'services'. I'm surprised. He's more accurate with you. So. Phobos. Who's Luna? What happened to you?"

"I—I—" Phobos started to shake. "I—"

"Forget I asked," Atlas said hurriedly. "You can tell me in your own time."

"O-okay," Phobos answered, relieved. He saw the horrors often enough in his nightmares without speaking of it. His tail twitched. Though he had his eternal reminder, he still didn't want it to be true—and talking of it would make it real.

Atlas was quiet for a moment. Then he sighed. "How about I tell you about me, kid?"

"O-okay." Phobos still felt in shock that he was speaking to someone—a real, human being—and any excuse to make him talk was a good one. Anything to hear someone speak who wasn't himself. He actually smiled, something he hadn't done since the escape attempt. Even though he had only spoken a few words with the man, it already comforted him immensely to know there was someone else with him—even if in another cell.

"As I told you, my code name is Atlas. It's a sort of joke, of course."

"Why?"

"I'm the architect who designed this compound. I built most of it, too. I'm a strong man."

"You…made this place…?"

"I had the help of a couple other Group Zeros. But I know a few secrets about this place no one else does." Atlas laughed. "If I ever get out of this cell, you'll never see me again." He paused. "Well, perhaps you will. I know you're insane, but you're less insane than the others."

"I'm not insane," Phobos growled back. "And what's Group Zero? It starts with me! Group One!"

"Oh, no, it doesn't. We thought…" Atlas sighed. "We believed him. Believed everything. Even before Persephone…" He sighed again. "If I could go back, I'd smack myself upside the head. We believed him. And he used us."

"What…what did you believe?"

Atlas cleared his throat. "Sol is a surgeon, a gifted one…but too radical for his peers. They felt his ideas were too dangerous, too…inhumane. But we…thought…we knew him better. He was going to change the world. We would use the knowledge he acquired to help everyone—all those people like us, missing arms, legs, everything, we'd help them regain it all. But human arms and legs—he said that would never work. Those had to be taken from corpses, and none of us were willing to desecrate a body like that. But perhaps…after all, so many Pokémon are humanlike…" He sighed. "We were fools."

"That's—that's not what he says now," Phobos said, shocked. That was the original purpose of Team Nebula? It couldn't be. "We—we gather others. We're superhuman. The ones who will lead the way to the future. We're going to help the chosen people claim their land, then…" He paused. "Oh, dear. I believed that?"

"Don't worry, we were bamboozled too. So many of us died during the construction of this place…this building has been paid for in blood. But even in my insanity I slipped a few things in. Things no one knows about…no one except me."

"What did you do?"

"Never you mind about that," Atlas snapped. Phobos glared at the vent.

"You're the one that brought it up."

"Ah, well. It's something I remember. Oh, speaking of…"

"What?"

"They've stopped bothering with me. I'm too old to fall for their tricks. But you, you're young. Malleable. Not like this geezer." He laughed. "The day he learned children were easier to hypnotize than adults…" His voice grew harsh. "That's the day I left."

"I take it that didn't work."

"No. I was too angry."

"Why?"

"Never you mind about that."

Phobos sighed. Apparently his new companion wanted to talk, but everything Phobos asked was simply brushed off. He assumed the man simply couldn't talk about it. That wasn't much different than Phobos; he wasn't sure if he'd ever be ready to talk about the escape attempt. Phobos' tail twitched. He wanted Atlas to talk more, but every time the man started, he immediately cut himself off.

Atlas took a deep breath, then released.

"Sorry, kid," he said. "I'll admit I'm not used to holding many conversations myself. It's…been a while."

Phobos pressed his back against the wall near the vent, legs bent and arms wrapped round. "It's—it's fine. I…I tried to leave too."

"I thought so. That explains why you're here, then. I didn't know Persephone could slip up like that. Good for you."

Phobos laughed bitterly, and flicked his tail. "Oh, yes. I did so well."

"At least you aren't eating that man's lies."

Phobos thought of Deimos, and his heart hardened. "Yeah. You're…right."

"Of course I'm—"

Shhhhkt. Beep beep! CLICK.

Phobos paused, confused. First a man talking through the wall, now beeping. Today was certainly a busy day…

"Phobos!" a girlish voice screamed. Phobos looked up and saw Eris, her face pale and nervous. His eye widened, and she raced in and crushed him in a tight hug.

"You're okay! You're okay! I knew you would be! You're okay!"

"Eris…?" he gasped in shock. Her eyes filled with tears, and she clung to him even tighter.

"I—I didn't know where they put you! Lord Sol wouldn't tell me! I had no idea—but are you, aren't they feeding you? You're so thin…" She released him, and tried to scrub her tears away. "I—I'll make sure you're okay, I promise. I…"

"What—how—what are you doing here?"

She sniffed. "I came down here to find you. Lord Sol said you were still in the compound, but—but—I didn't know where you were! I only just got the key for this level today. I didn't even know this was here! After I found out I thought you might be here but I wasn't—but you are! Oh, Phobos!" She grabbed him into another tight hug, shaking with sobs. Phobos hugged her back. She nuzzled her face against his neck and her grip tightened. He relaxed into her embrace, and a part of him hoped she would never let go.

Eventually, she untangled herself from him. He sighed, then brightened when she held his hand. It was quiet for a little while, until she summoned the courage to speak.

"Phobos…why didn't you tell me?"

"Tell you what?"

"You—with Luna—and you didn't even…"

Phobos winced at hearing the name. "I'm sorry…I thought…" He sighed. "I didn't…"

"If you would have told me, I would've helped you!"

Phobos' eye widened. "You—you would?!"

"Yes! Lord Sol is very forgiving. He would've understood everything if you just told him how you felt. And I would have helped…Phobos, you can still…"

Phobos heart turned to ice. "You would've told Sol about the plan, then."

"I—there's other ways, Phobos! I know you were worried about everyone, but Lord Sol cares for all of us! And he—he still cares about you! If you said you were sorry…"

"I'm not." Even Phobos was surprised to hear himself say this. But it was true. He couldn't imagine groveling to Sol after all that had happened. He shook his head slightly, and flicked his tail. "I don't think I'll ever be."

"Don't say that!" Eris sighed, and leaned into Phobos' shoulder. "I…let's not talk about that, okay? I finally found you…"

Phobos relaxed slowly. His world had opened up quite a bit in the last few minutes—a man behind the wall, Eris busting the door down—and he needed a moment to take it all in. He looked at Eris, and cocked his head.

"Something's different…" He paused, then realized what it was. "New uniform?"

"Oh…yes." Eris smoothed the fabric of the new silver tunic dress she wore, making it shimmer in the light. The long silver hair pin holding her hair in a tight bun glittered when she turned her head away, embarrassed.

"Why?" He grasped the hair pin and gently tugged it out. Her hair fell loose and cascaded in a purple wave down her back. She blushed. "I liked your hair down."

Eris fidgeted. "Well…um…I…kinda got a promotion."

Phobos cocked his head. "Why?"

"Because…never mind. Anyway, my name's Venus now."

"Why?" His tone was more urgent now, demanding. Eris looked away.

"I…" She looked at him, tears in her eyes. "I knew, okay?! I knew!"

"Wh…what?"

"You—how could you think I didn't know you were going to do this?! I know you better than you do! I love you, and you—you didn't even—so—I—"

"You told him. Not Deimos." Phobos' voice was cold as ice.

"He was—going to tell on you anyway! I thought maybe I could help you but you didn't even notice me and Lord Sol said, that, that—" Tears trickled down her face. "I didn't want you to die!"

"You could have helped us…told us…"

"I couldn't! Lord Sol said I couldn't! So I tried—I made sure Mercury didn't…"

"But you didn't care about Luna." He said it without expression, intonation; a flat statement. Eris snorted and shook her head derisively.

"She chose it. But you didn't have to! She's the one who made you think this way! It's her fault! She deserved it! You didn't!"

Silence. Then: "Please leave."

Eris looked at him, eyes blotchy and red. "I…I tr-tried, Phobos…I really did…"

"Please. Leave." His face was pale, but there was no emotion. A blank slate. "Please leave right now."

"I…Phobos…"

"Leave."

Eris sniffed, then shot straight up, leaving Phobos sitting on the floor. "Fine! I—I n-never cared a-anyway! You can just, just, just rot here f-for all I care! You care more about Luna than me!" She pulled a small remote off of her belt, and clicked a button. The door opened with two beeps and a loud CLICK. She darted through and slammed it shut. Phobos didn't even look up. Instead he remained curled against the wall, hunched over, tail binding itself tightly around his ankles. He pressed his face into his knees, and began to sob.

— — — — — —

Author's note: Mercury kinda lucked out with all this, as it happens. It was supposed to be Mercury/Venus, Neptune/Uranus, since Sol likes following in pairs when possible. But Deimos didn't want to be called Uranus, so he took Phobos' name. I don't think Phobos cares.